


They say that only the dead have seen the end of war

by Annaelle, Juulna



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Adoption, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Solo Finally Moves On, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Enjoy!, F/M, Family Fluff, Force Ghost Ben Solo, Found Family, Gray Jedi Rey (Star Wars), Happy for Star Wars at least, Look they're just trying their best to put the galaxy back together one planet at a time yeah?, Many Attempts At Figuring Out How Dating a Force Ghost Works, Married Poe Dameron/Finn, Non-traditional Relationship, POV Poe Dameron, POV Rey (Star Wars), POV Third Person Limited, Politics, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Pregnancy Via The Force (Star Wars), Rebuilding, Redeemed Ben Solo, Rey's School For Wayward Force Users, Reylo Valentines Exchange 2021 (Star Wars), Romantic Fluff, but you bet your ass they love each other to the stars and back, i guess?, only at the very end, you KNOW what i mean hahaha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29388600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annaelle/pseuds/Annaelle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juulna/pseuds/Juulna
Summary: “He traded his life for mine,” Rey choked, stomping back and forth in front of him so fast he could barely keep track of her. “He died. He died so I didn’t have to—and it’s not—it’s—after everything he’s gone through—it’s not fair.”Tears were running down her cheeks now, and Poe wanted to do nothing more than hug her, but there was nothing he could say—nothing she would want to hear. Poe remembered all the people he’d lost, all the times he had raged and screamed and cried about the unfairness of it all.“Leia sacrificed herself to bring him back,” Rey declared suddenly, ceasing her constant pacing around the fire as she looked straight at him. “And he sacrificed himself for me—and now no one’s going to know. All he’ll be remembered as is Kylo Ren, but he was—he was so much more.” She exhaled with a shudder and whispered, “He was a part of me, and I—I don’t feel whole without him.”~A Force Ghost Ben/Rey love story, with a side of rebuilding the galaxy.
Relationships: Poe Dameron & Finn & Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 20
Kudos: 28
Collections: To Find Your Kiss: The Reylo Fanfiction Anthology's Valentine's Day Exchange





	They say that only the dead have seen the end of war

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PoliticalPadmé (magnetgirl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetgirl/gifts).



> I (Juulna, fyi!) chose this prompt as soon as I saw the pinch hit assignment: "Force Ghost Love Story. Ben haunts Rey but as her life goes on and his doesn’t, he realizes she needs to let him go."
> 
> This is meant to be bittersweet but we sure as hell made sure there were lots of happy moments to be had here. No sad tears allowed! *wags finger* ;)
> 
> Honestly, when I picked up this assignment two weeks ago, I originally went into this expecting it to be like... 5k? But I completely forgot who I was dealing with (me), so I had to rope in my longterm beta and co-writer Annaelle, and somehow ended up with 27k of fic that we are really(!) happy with. We hope you are too! :D
> 
> The base concept is by Juulna and then it got torn up and put back together as I co-wrote it with Annaelle, so please accept our apologies if there are some inconsistencies. Even though we've done this probably more times than we can count over five years, we do still make mistakes, so let us know if there's anything egregious! We haven't been around Star Wars in a while, too... but that actually turned out to be really fun and fascinating, coming at it from that angle, because we got to explore all the things we wanted to see in a post-TRoS galaxy while still exploring and expounding upon that OG-feeling of post-TFA obsessive Reylo love. :) We've also never read any Force Ghost Ben stories, so we do apologize if this bears any resemblance to any famous stories. Seriously, haven't read one. Life has been.... weird.
> 
> FYI, the first few bits are a bit Poe/Finn with some Rey-focus, as we set the stage, and then the Reylo begins in earnest!
> 
> Happy Valentine's/Galentine's PoliticalPadme!!! (We loved your other prompts too, but I wasn't as comfortable with my knowledge of the properties requested (even though I've seen and know them! Terrible me)! Plus I very very much like the Star Wars universe, even with as... ugh... as it can be occasionally. :P We still hope this pleases you and checks off lots of your boxes!!!) <3

**_Only the dead have seen the end of war._ **

**_\- Plato_ **

* * *

* * *

**AJAN KLOSS (21 hours ABE—After the Battle of Exegol)**

Black One touched down safely, and Poe could see several ground technicians rushing towards him immediately, could almost _feel_ the elation and excitement in the air. He leaned his head back against his seat for a moment, using the couple of minutes they’d need to set the ladder to the hull so that he could climb out, to center himself. 

It’d been a very long, very exhausting 48 hours, and he wasn’t as young as he had once been. 

Exhaustion ran deep into his bones and if he could, he’d fall asleep right where he sat. R-2 beeped indignantly at him though, eager to be released into the rapturous crowd that was rapidly filing out onto the tarmac, shouting and laughing, hugging and crying and kissing, and Poe wanted nothing more than to find Finn and Rey and make sure they were both okay, to hold them, to kiss Finn and feel the steady beat of his heart beneath his palm before he wanted to find the nearest bed and sleep for about a year. 

Unfortunately, he was a _general_ now. 

People would want to see him, they would want to talk to him, they would want to _celebrate_ with him and with Finn and Rey and much as Poe would like to sneak off for some privacy—some peace and quiet to lick his wounds and to _grieve_ for all that’d been lost—he feared he wasn’t going to get it any time soon. 

He forced a smile on his lips as he climbed out of the cockpit, clapping the ground tech—a young Cerean male that had joined the Resistance only a few weeks before the Battle of Crait—on the shoulder. 

The kid smiled, offering Poe a quick, “Glad to have you back, General,” and hurried around the wing, disappearing behind the spacecraft. Poe chuckled at his youthful exuberance before turning to one of the other technicians, a tall, handsome human that approached him with a massive grin. 

“Dameron,” Malik crowed. “I can’t believe you pulled it off, you crazy son of a bantha!” 

Poe laughed, for the first time in days, and tugged the other man in for a tight hug, before Malik shoved him back to help him remove the oxygen mask and tube. “I can barely believe it myself,” he admitted quietly. “It feels almost unreal.” 

“I bet,” Malik muttered, rolling the tubes with practiced ease. 

“Do you know if the ground crew’s back yet?” Poe asked, glancing around, trying to see if he spotted Rose or any of the others. He hissed in pain when Malik brushed against his arm, trying to jerk back instinctively—he hadn’t noticed just how sore his arm was before, but now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the dull throb was almost impossible to ignore. 

“I haven’t seen them yet,” Malik said casually, but his fingers were unrelenting around Poe’s wrist, stretching out his arm to check its dexterity. Poe hissed again, wincing, and Malik clucked his tongue. “I’m going to make you a sling and you’re going to wait here and _put it on_ , Dameron,” he said sternly, before darting around the side of the craft and reappearing with several roles of bandages. 

Poe grumbled, but he let his old friend bind his arm in a sling and secure it against his torso. 

“Thanks,” he said, smiling lightly, bouncing on his toes to see if he spotted the Falcon anywhere as Malik worked. Malik rolled his eyes at him, long since used to Poe’s innate inability to stand or sit still for very long unless he was flying, and patted his shoulder when he finished tying the bandages. 

“You’re welcome, General,” he chuckled. “Go find your friends.” 

Poe grinned, and then went to do exactly that, smiling when people came up to him, managing a genuine smile when he caught sight of Doctor Kalonia falling into Jess’s arms, kissing her desperately and happily, the same way Poe _itched_ to kiss Finn the second he could find him. 

_After_ he’d slapped him up the head for being a heroic dumbass. 

And then, as if summoned by Poe’s increasingly desperate thoughts, Finn appeared across the tarmac, looking equally elated and exasperated and exhausted. Poe laughed, exhilarated and exhausted and _so, so happy_ to see Finn, even though he’d known Finn had survived, and nearly fell into Finn’s arms when the other man reached him, his knees nearly giving out from beneath him. 

He allowed himself a moment—a moment to _breathe_ , to relish in the feel of Finn safe and solid in his arms—before he leaned back, hand curled around the back of Finn’s neck, their foreheads pressed together. “You crazy son of a bantha,” Poe said, voice trembling a little. “I thought we were done for.” 

Finn chuckled wetly, fingers curling into the hair on the back of Poe’s neck. “Me too.” 

Poe melted into the touch, swaying towards Finn, slipping his arms back around the other man’s neck as Finn slipped his around Poe’s waist, pressing their bodies close together in a way they hadn’t been able to for far too long already. He rested his forehead against Poe’s and exhaled shakily. “We’re alive,” he muttered shakily. “We made it.”

“Yeah, baby,” Poe whispered back, as Finn rubbed his hands over the length of Poe’s back. “We made it.”

Finn let out another shuddering breath and pressed into Poe’s embrace as much as he could, and Poe held him tight, relished in the short moment they were allowed before the rest of the Resistance would demand their attention again. He leaned up slightly, pressing into a soft, relieved kiss to Finn’s lips. 

Finn hummed against his lips and sank into it, and they stood swaying for a couple of seconds, lost in each other, before Finn jerked away, looking up over the crowd with a bright, relieved smile. “Rey’s here,” he said, and Poe exhaled in relief. 

He didn’t have the same sense of the Force that Finn did, but he’d learned to trust it—and Finn. 

They turned as one, finding her smiling at them with teary eyes just a few yards away. Finn moved towards her first, but Poe was only seconds behind him, folding them both in his arms. 

They’d made it. 

They were alive. 

They’d won.

But, holding Rey close between him and Finn, he knew they hadn’t all come back whole. 

* * *

**AJAN KLOSS (45 hours ABE)**

Later, after celebrating, after letting Finn and Rey lead him back to their quarters and falling asleep in a complicated tangle of limbs, unable to bear the thought of being apart even to sleep, Poe woke up to find Rey missing from their cuddle pile and Finn snoring in his ear. 

The base had finally quieted down, the celebrations dying down as exhaustion caught up with everyone, and Poe wasn’t sure _how_ he knew, but he knew he needed to find Rey. 

He left the bed and Finn reluctantly, slipping on the nearest coat and his boots before slipping outside, instructing BB-8 to tell Finn where he’d gone should he wake up. He found Rey, eventually, in the woods surrounding the base, curled up in front of a small campfire, one of their blankets wrapped around her shoulders, and Poe could tell from the stiff set of her shoulders that there was something bothering her. 

Something she’d not yet shared with him or Finn. 

“Rey,” he said quietly, taking care to make some noise as he approached her—he had been caught and trapped by the Force a few to many times over the past few years by her or Finn when he’d accidentally startled them, and he wasn’t in the mood for it now. 

He touched her shoulder gently, sighing in relief when she leaned back against his legs, raising her hand to touch his. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” she said softly after a short silence. “I just couldn’t— I—” 

“You don’t have to explain,” Poe said quietly, settling down in front of the fire with her, curling an arm around her shoulders as he did. She sank into his embrace, and sometimes it still blew his mind to think that this girl—who was easily a decade younger than him—had more power in her left pinkie than he did in his entire body… that she had enough power to defeat an emperor who had defeated death once already. 

“I died,” she whispered, and Poe’s heart constricted painfully, feeling almost like she’d punched the breath from his lungs. He had to actively fight the urge to bundle her up and fly her back to his father’s house on Yavin IV, where he knew she’d be safe and unharmed, away from having to fight a foe more powerful than any of them had ever known. 

He knew she was capable of taking care of herself, though, and that she had clearly—somehow—survived. 

“What happened?” he asked cautiously, rubbing his thumb in circles against the back of her shoulder. 

She leaned away from him a little abruptly and sat up straight, hands curling into and out of fists on her upper thighs. “To defeat him,” she said tremulously, “I had to channel all the Jedi that came before me. It was too much. The Force demands balance—Palpatine unbalanced the scales tremendously, and killing him took tipping the scales back in the other direction.” 

“But you’re here,” Poe whispered, reaching out with his good hand. “You’re alive.” 

“Ben saved me,” she admitted in a tiny voice before launching herself to her feet, pacing in front of the fire restlessly as Poe watched, aching to reach out and hold her, to protect her from all the hurt she’d gone through even if he only understood half of it. 

“He traded his life for mine,” Rey choked, stomping back and forth in front of him so fast he could barely keep track of her. “He _died_ . He died so I didn’t have to—and it’s not—it’s—after everything he’s gone through—it’s not _fair._ ” 

Tears were running down her cheeks now, and Poe wanted to do nothing more than hug her, but there was nothing he could say—nothing she would want to hear. Poe remembered all the people he’d lost, all the times he had raged and screamed and cried about the unfairness of it all. 

“Leia sacrificed herself to bring him back,” Rey declared suddenly, ceasing her constant pacing around the fire as she looked straight at him. “And he sacrificed himself for me—and now no one’s going to know. All he’ll be remembered as is Kylo Ren, but he was—he was _so much more_.” She exhaled with a shudder and whispered, “He was a part of me, and I—I don’t feel whole without him.” 

“Rey,” Poe intoned quietly, slowly getting to his feet, keeping his gaze locked on hers. “We won’t let that happen. We’ll make sure people remember Ben Solo.” He moved forward until he was standing right before her, grasping one of her hands in his. “We’ll make sure that people know what he did. That people _know_ he turned back to the light side, that he broke Palpatine’s control and fought _for us_ instead of against us. We’ll let them know he was _used_ , brainwashed, no matter how unpalatable that will be for some to take. It will take time, but they will _hear us_ _when we speak for the dead_.”

The flames reflected in her dark eyes, and for a moment, he was afraid he hadn't gotten through to her, but then the frustrated, heartbroken anger in her gaze melted away and she looked like _Rey_ again, headstrong and powerful and so, so very young. 

She looked like the friend he saw as the little sister he’d always secretly wanted. 

“Finn won’t understand,” she whispered, before tipping forward into his chest, clutching at him in a desperate embrace. “He hated him so much, and I understand, but I— _I love him_. I can’t help but love him.” 

Poe didn’t reply right away, just tightened his good arm around her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “It's going to be okay,” he whispered. “We’ll find a way to heal. We’ll find a way to talk to Finn and explain, so he’ll understand. It’s gonna be okay.” 

* * *

Two days later, Rey was gone. She’d left a message, one he and Finn played over and over again, every day, and made sure they knew the communication keys to the ship she’d taken, so they could send her messages, but she needed to be alone. As little as they understood that, finding comfort in each other and in those friends around them, Rey had been raised completely differently and they respected her decision—her _need_ —to rediscover who she was. To find out on her own before she could come back and ‘not get swept away in the powerful personalities of those I love, until I don’t know who I am anymore’, she had said.

That, at least, they could partially understand. 

* * *

**CHANDRILA (36 days ABE)**

Poe Dameron had been many things in his thirty-six years of life. 

He had, during his rebellious youth, desperate to become his own person, to break free from the long, heroic shadow his family cast over him, served as a spice runner on Kimji. He had grown up, had realized that he was throwing his life and talent away and had joined the New Republic Defense Fleet as a pilot, had worked his way up to commander of Rapier Squadron, where he had made friendships that would outlast war and strife. He’d joined the Resistance after losing Muran, had thrown himself headfirst into the fight against the First Order, and his friends had been right by his side when he did. 

He’d been their commander, but he had also been their friend, and he’d never have forced them into the Resistance with him. Instead, they had taken his hands and each led him there, side-by-side every step of the way. They’d been thick as thieves for many years, and Poe could hardly remember a time when they hadn’t been in his life in one way or another—until now. 

Karé and Iolo had been lost when the First Order blew up their hangar, and he’d lost Snap in the battle of Exegol, and Poe hadn’t, for a long time, known how to deal with their loss.

He’d missed them. 

He _still_ missed them. 

He’d gone from sole surviving member of the Resistance higher command chain to general in one fell swoop without any of his support system around, had lost nearly half of their remaining forces at Exegol, had nearly lost _Finn_ —and everything else that mattered in the universe. 

And then Rey had done _something_ , had managed to defeat a slumbering evil that had lain in wait for decades, that had bided its time, rebuilding an army strong enough to take out any and all opposition, and Finn had managed to knock out the navigational system and destroy _the Steadfast_ and suddenly there had been _hope_ stronger than Poe had felt in years. 

They’d won the battle and, likely, the war, but so much remained to be done that it hadn’t felt very much like winning for a long, long time. 

He had, in the immediate wake of the Battle of Exegol, been bombarded to become the official liaison between the Resistance and the fledgling central government of the galaxy. Poe had found out very quickly he was _not_ suited for life as a politician— _thankfully_ , Finn had an innate talent for making people listen to him, an uncanny ability to guilt people into acknowledging their own faults and pointing out flaws without compunction. Finn wanted change, and as much as politics often made him uncomfortable as well, he saw it as a necessary evil to _change the galaxy_. 

For the better. 

Poe had _never_ loved Finn as much as he had in the moment he watched the former stormtrooper shame an entire contingent of delegates into admitting that they’d known the First Order was stealing children. A few of the braver delegates that had once been part of the New Republic insisted there hadn’t been anything they could do, but Finn had pointed out—rightly so—that the New Republic had been far more concerned with avoiding war with the First Order than they were with children outside of their territory being forced into military service for a hostile empire. 

Negotiations to form the Alliance of Worlds had, naturally, been a little tense after that. 

It was a work in progress. 

And yet he wouldn’t trade his feisty Finn for anything in the entire galaxy—he made the business of restructuring what seemed like _life itself_ all the more worthwhile. And palatable, for all the horrors they seemed to come across on a daily basis. 

The galaxy had been left in disarray after the collapse of the Old Republic, the destruction of the Empire, the subsequent rise of the First Order and the eventual annihilation of the New Republic. The only empire that still stood was the one that the Hutts had built out in the Outer Rim—and Poe was reasonably certain they shouldn’t be taking notes from actual criminals. 

Of course, Poe wasn’t a politician, so what did he know, right? 

He wondered what Rey would have done in each of the situations he’d faced in the last few weeks—and was ruefully almost glad that she wasn’t here to witness the despicable natures of who were supposed to be the _good guys_. 

Of course she was always asked after—the Hero of Exegol, Force-Blessed, Master Rey, the Saviour of the Light; Force, she would roll her eyes so hard at everything they called her—but Finn and Poe took those opportunities to slowly educate the politicians and sycophants of what exactly had happened leading up to Exegol and on the planet itself, during the battle.

Including the topic of Ben Solo. 

Again, it was a work in progress, and he didn’t reveal _everything_ , but he had a feeling that many knew more than he wished they did. At the moment, at least.

But Rey and Ben were one, he accepted that—even Finn accepted it, providing a united front in public even if he ranted in private—and he would make the world accept it too.

For Rey. For Ben. 

For the childhood friend who’d been snatched away from him; a portion of his life stolen just as Ben’s had been. 

No matter the topic, no matter the progress made—or _not_ made, more often than not—he was always disproportionately relieved when they disbanded for the night, so he and Finn could retreat to the chambers they’d been assigned to. As much as Finn was a natural at these negotiations, able to speak frankly and truthfully, it always exhausted him. 

“Come on,” Poe said quietly as the thirty-some delegates voted to dismiss the session, “let’s go.” 

Finn hummed in relief and smiled as Poe took his hand, leading him out of the meeting area and through the hallway until they reached the door to their chambers. As soon as the door slid shut behind them, Poe felt an invisible burden fall from his shoulders and he could tell Finn felt the same when the other man let out a soft, content sigh. 

It was only a small room, but with a bed so large it nearly took up the entire space, piled with surprisingly soft sheets and pillows. The walls were dull, durasteel-grey, dented and scratched, worn with old age and there was a single door that led to a tiny ‘fresher unit. It was small and old but it was one of the most comfortable places they had slept in in the past couple of years. 

It was more than enough. 

When he turned his attention back to Finn, it was to find his partner sprawled flat on his back across the large bed, his eyes shut and his arms stretched above his head. The lightsaber Rey had taught him to construct the year before lay innocuously on the nightstand, and Poe’s mouth went a little dry when he noticed Finn’s shirt was a little too short and had ridden up to expose part of Finn’s muscular abdomen and the little line of dark hairs that tantalisingly led down into his trousers.

He allowed himself a moment to appreciate the view, because it wasn’t often they got the chance to slow down and really _look_ at each other anymore. 

Finn cracked one eye open to look at him, and Poe flushed a little when he realized Finn had caught him staring at him—again. He wished he could say it wasn’t a frequent occurrence, but Poe was well-aware that he tended to go a little cross-eyed when faced with Finn doing ordinary, yet stupidly attractive, things—like lying on their bed after a long day of negotiations. 

“You enjoying the view, Dameron?” Finn smirked, raising a single eyebrow at him—and damn that man for making something as simple as a raised eyebrow look hot.

“Always,” Poe quipped back, taking good care to sound smooth and self-confident—he wasn’t a teenager with his first crush, Force damn it all. Finn may be the only person Poe had been seriously in love with since he’d been in his early twenties, but they were years past the honeymoon phase of their relationship. 

Finn smirked up at him, leaning up on his elbows to look at him. “You gonna do anything but look at me, flyboy?” he demanded huskily, biting down on his lower lip. 

“I don’t know,” Poe grinned, crossing his arms. “Should I?” 

Finn huffed a breath and rolled his eyes, getting to his feet with all the air of a man inconvenienced, folding his hand around the back of Poe’s neck as soon as he was within reach. “You’re annoying,” Finn told him seriously, their noses brushing together lightly. “I should go stay with Rey instead.” 

“Go ahead,” Poe muttered, brushing his lips across Finn’s in a barely-there kiss. “I’m sure you’ll _truly_ enjoy all the sand on Tatooine—I mean, maybe it matches her depression, but Force, why choose _that_ pla…” He trailed off at the look of sadness overtaking his love’s features, and lifted a hand to smooth out the frown lines from his face, reassuring him with his hands and a light kiss that he was _sure_ Rey was okay—he knew Finn would feel that from him. 

Finn swayed after him when he pulled away, eyes still shut, and Force, Poe loved him—he never wanted to let him go ever again. 

Finn’s eyes fluttered open again and he smiled, wide and happy, pressing his palm to Poe’s cheek. Poe melted into the touch, swaying back towards Finn. “Maybe I’d miss your dumb face too much if I went to stay there,” Finn said quietly, and he was so close that Poe could feel his breath on his lips. “Plus I don’t think Rey will kiss me whenever I want to.” 

“Ah,” Poe breathed, leaning in to rest his forehead against Finn’s. “Well, it’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it.” He grinned and chuckled, “I can take this for the good of the galaxy.” 

Finn chuckled too and leaned in to press their lips together again, running his hands down the length of Poe’s back. Poe shuddered and kissed him back, pressing into Finn’s embrace as much as he could, relishing in the easy comfort of Finn’s touch. He let Finn spin them, guiding them back towards the bed, and smirked when Finn shoved him down before unceremoniously dropping onto his lap. 

Finn smirked back at him before leaning in for another kiss, wiggling enticingly on top of him, pressing his palms flat against Poe’s shoulders to keep him on his back. Poe grinned into the kiss and trailed his fingers down Finn’s torso until they came to rest on Finn’s hips. 

“You’re pushy today,” he chuckled when they separated to breathe, grinning up at Finn delightedly.

“Shut up,” Finn laughed quietly, pressing his thumb to Poe’s jaw to tilt his head up for another kiss, moving back a little on his thighs when Poe moved to sit up again instead. “I just can’t keep my hands off of you after you do your General-of-the-Resistance thing. It’s very, _very_ sexy.” 

Poe tried—tried so very hard—not to blush at Finn’s words, but he could feel his cheeks heat up nonetheless, lips parting as he tried to figure out a way to say something smooth in response to that. “You keep derailing everything I want to say to you when you say things like that,” he finally exclaimed, dropping his head forward to rest against Finn’s collar bone, and wrapping his arms around Finn’s waist.

“I’m sorry, were you trying to make another tearful declaration of love?” Finn teased him playfully, referring to the first time Poe had told him he loved him, seconds after they’d both almost died.

“No,” he scoffed, but he could tell Finn didn’t believe him, and if he was honest, he didn’t really believe himself either. Tearful, soppy declarations of love were his forte, and he wasn’t going to let Finn take that away from him. 

“Uh-huh,” Finn smirked, pushing Poe back until he was lying down again, settling himself on top of him with an elbow on each side of his head, and Poe had to focus to keep his entire train of thought from becoming derailed by the feel of Finn’s body pressed along his own. “Sure. Let’s pretend I believe you. What were you thinking about so hard during the meeting? I could almost _hear_ you, you were thinking so loud.” 

Poe sighed a little, flexing his fingers on Finn’s hips. “About your last name,” he then admitted. “Or your lack of one, I guess.”

Finn blinked, confused, and tilted his head to the side. “What about it?”

Finn’s lack of a family name hadn’t bothered Finn in years—not since he’d joined the Resistance and made a family for himself, a found family full of people he loved and that loved him—and Poe hadn’t really thought about it much either. 

Until earlier, when one of the delegates had asked Finn if he had tried searching for his birth family. 

“Well,” Poe started slowly, “I know you don’t have one, and that you don’t _need_ one to be a complete person, but…” He trailed off and tugged at the chain under his shirt, pulling out his mother’s ring. Finn gasped quietly, sitting back up abruptly and pulling Poe back up too. 

“Are you—” Finn choked, and Poe smiled, cheeks burning with heat. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “We’ll have to get it resized, but—how do you feel about taking my last name?” Finn nodded enthusiastically, rendered speechless, and Poe smiled so hard his cheeks hurt even before Finn cupped his cheeks in both hands and kissed him, hard. 

Finn’s lips parted and the kiss deepened, and Poe moaned, a little desperately, pressing into Finn’s touch eagerly. They were kissing sloppily, Finn’s arms now looped around Poe’s neck and one of Poe’s hands on Finn’s ass, pulling the other man flush against him. 

“Wow,” Poe blurted when they finally parted, chest heaving, staring at Finn with wide eyes. “If I knew proposing was going to get me a kiss like that I would’ve done it years ago.” 

Finn _giggled_ , tightening his arms around Poe’s neck and rubbing their noses together. “When would you have done that, then? Between naming me and crashing a fighter on Jakku?” 

“Obviously,” Poe hummed, leaning in to kiss Finn again, softer and sweeter this time. “Telling you to keep that old leather jacket was a proposal, didn’t you know? I love you, General Dameron.” 

“I love you too,” Finn chuckled against his lips. “General Dameron.” 

* * *

**TATOOINE (37 days ABE)**

The sands of Tatooine _were_ a comfort in their own way, but she felt the absence of the entire Skywalker clan far too deeply, day and night, in the wastes that were too alike to Jakku to be the comfort she had thought they would be.

When, through the Force, she felt Finn’s overwhelming—even for him—happiness, and received the news of his engagement and rather-unsurprising new last name, she smiled bittersweetly and looked out on the binary stars and the sand and the former Skywalker home she had finally disassembled into its component atoms with the Force—it was for the best, she knew, though it _had_ filled her with a sense of sadness and finality—and said goodbye. Not just goodbye to the planet, but goodbye to her moping around. 

It was time she did something for the good of the galaxy, for the newly forming Alliance of Worlds.

There was still Darkness out there, and _that_ she could help with.

Plus, she found that she actually sort of… missed people.

And not just certain people.

* * *

**CHANDRILA (3 months ABE)**

“There has to be accountability—humanity has destroyed much over the past century and many of our former allies in the Republic no longer feel safe with humans at the helm of a new alliance—be it a new republic or another form of government.” 

The tension in the room was so palpable that it thickened the air surrounding them and caused him to feel almost like he was choking on it. Former senator Hamato Xiono’s voice rang loud and clear in the silence that permeates the room, and Poe sat wide-eyed across from Finn, who looked both pensive and incensed, waiting for the bluish holographic figure to continue his speech, hopefully to end it on a more positive and reassuring note than it had begun. 

They were sequestered away in a small, unused boardroom in a virtually abandoned wing of a former senate building that had been cleared of its usual furnishings and replaced by a large, round table made of Homogoni wood and several high-backed chairs in deep, scarlet Greel wood. 

Poe felt a little resentful that he and Finn had been roped into these negotiations when Rey got to go off having chats over fancy lunches with former Resistance allies to discuss the things Leia had left her—and Poe, although his own meeting with the solicitor had been postponed until after… _this_. 

That is, when they’d finally been able to rope her back to known space from Force knows what she’d been doing that had started to put some form of a smile on her face.

He had his suspicions.

“...if we continue as we have in the past. This new Alliance cannot be allowed to be dominated by humankind any longer,” Xiono continued, shaking his head with a grave expression twisting his features. “While I understand this is not an easy feat to accomplish, I understand the demand all too well.” He paused at that, and Poe bit his lower lip uncomfortably, because he’d been aware of the anti-human sentiment that ran rampant throughout the galaxy these days, but he hadn’t thought it so acute that it needed addressing during the forming of a new government.

He pressed his fingers down on the warm wood of the table, picking at a few splinters on its otherwise smooth surface as he attempted to glean a glimmer of his formerly calm façade. While he was well aware that most of the people seated at the table considered him a stable, dependable man, he'd not felt like that in quite some time—though he would certainly like to keep up the illusion for a while longer.

The war had left deep scars within his soul and they ached at the most when he least expected it. As it did for all of them who had laid their lives on the line when these… these _people_ … had chosen to wait it out.

The other occupants in the boardroom also shifted uneasily in the silence that followed, and Poe found himself wondering whether they _had_ been aware of the anti-human sentiment—there had been so much death and so much chaos in the past few years that he found himself unable to keep track of everything going on in the wider galaxy—generally he only learned things because Leia went out of her way to tell him about them. 

“This kind of demand is absurd,” one of the other human delegates—a pale skinned, white haired woman with astonishingly pale eyes—frowned. “Humans cannot be expected to remain out of this entirely. Our planets will also be a part of the Alliance, therefore we deserve a voice.” 

Xiono’s forehead creased into a severe frown, and Poe slouched a little in his seat as the older man looked at him directly before glancing towards the other delegates. “I understand this request is delicate and will cause friction—this is also why I called upon you all. General Dameron.” Poe sat up a little straighter, and from the corner of his eye, he could see Finn do the same automatically, even though they’d only been married for a little over a standard month and they weren’t quite used to it yet. 

Xiono smiled indulgently and clarified, “General _Poe_ Dameron, I mean. I’ve heard tell that you led a racially integrated squadron both during your days at the New Republic and in the Resistance. How did you address such issues when they cropped up under your leadership?” 

Poe sighed, rubbing his hand over his forehead before he met Xiono’s gaze. 

The holographic image was a little spotty, shivering every few seconds before it settled again, but Poe was certain Xiono was still looking at him, just like the other delegates at the table. “What, exactly, do you expect me to say?” he demanded as he sat up straighter. “I led a racially diverse squadron because I selected members based on their skills, not their heritage or planetary origins. Also, and this may have escaped your notice while you were holed up in your cozy homes, we were _fighting for our lives._ I didn’t have time to worry about their race, and neither did they.”

He broke off and looked down, clenching his fists in his lap as he attempted to keep himself in check.

“And we’re supposed to take your word for this?” Ormes Apolin’s voice was shrill and it shattered the silence that had fallen after he’d spoken, and Poe winced a little. “This man may have been chosen by Leia to be her successor, but he is still human. He cannot speak for how those under his command felt about humanity _dominating_ us.” 

The words might not have hit Poe so hard if he did not know, for certain, that Leia had distrusted Apolin greatly, and had suspected him to have Imperial ties. 

“I never pretended to!” he exclaimed angrily, slamming his fist down on the table. “I answered the question I was asked, and I did so to the best of my knowledge! My squad were my friends—I would have died for them. Don’t you dare imply that I thought they were lesser because they weren’t human.” 

“Enough!” Varish Vicly boomed, her golden fur quivering as she leaned forward in her seat. “General Dameron is correct, regardless of his own species. The issue of human dominance in any governing body that we form _must_ be addressed, but it cannot become our main focus. That is not what we fought and died for, and it is frankly disturbing that it has been allowed to become a main issue.” 

Apolin crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, but shut his mouth at the Loneran’s words. 

She herself had much power, as one of Leia’s former allies in the New Republic days.

Everything seemed to return to Leia—perhaps Rey had been right in refusing to take the Skywalker or Organa name, as Leia’s will had offered. _“Let the past die,”_ she’d murmured, sounding as if the words meant more than appeared on the surface. 

Poe grumbled beneath his breath too but settled back in his seat and turned his attention back to Xiono, who'd clearly been waiting for them all to settle down. The others were quiet as well, and Poe felt a little foolish for losing his temper after Apolin’s deliberate goading, but then Finn scooted forward a little and pressed their feet together, and the touch relaxed him a little. 

The elder man was currently looking down, likely at papers or files on his desk on Coruscant, his silence heavy and uncomfortable, and Poe suddenly felt woefully unqualified to make any decisions about this, because while Apolin was a dick, just trying to goad him into a reaction, he did have a point—Poe was human, and he could never really speak for those who felt humanity had oppressed them. 

“I believed in the New Republic,” Xiano finally said, pressing the tips of his fingers against his temples. “I did when the Empire fell and the Republic was founded and I did during the Hosnian Cataclysm and I still do today. I believe that we can build a government that will _aid_ people rather than oppress them. But I also believe that those who brought these concerns to me were correct. Humans have been consistently screwing up since the days of the Old Republic. We need to be put in check. ” 

“No disagreements there,” a deep, slightly amused voice said from the doorway, and Poe and the others jerked around, surprised. Poe’s jaw dropped a little at the sight of a Mandalorian standing in the doorway, tall and wide and armed to the teeth, his armor shining brightly even in the dim light of the room, and a familiar hilt clipped to his belt. 

“Mand’alor,” he breathed, shooting to his feet before remembering that Mandalorians didn’t generally stand on ceremony. Finn, who had followed his lead, looked between the Mandalorian and Poe quizzically, and the other delegates seemed equally taken aback. 

Poe hadn’t seen the Mand’alor in _decades_ —not since he had left Yavin IV to join the spice runners and then the Academy—but he recognized the armor and signature weapon at once. 

“Young Dameron,” the Mand’alor said, moving into the room casually, followed closely by two other Mandalorians, both with colorful designs on their armor. “It’s good to see you again.” The helmet inclined slightly and Poe inclined his head back before retaking his seat—from the corner of his eye, he could see his husband do the same. 

The Mand’alor then turned his attention to the head of the table, where the holo of Xiono still wavered ever so slightly. “Mand’alor,” Xiono inclined his head respectfully. “To what do we owe the honor?” 

The Mand’alor made a muffled noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort and took a seat in one of the few empty chairs, directly across from Xiono’s holographic image. “I came because the First Order has finally fallen,” he said calmly. “I had an agreement with the New Republic—they stayed out of our way, Mandalore stayed out of theirs. We do not want part of alliances or complicated obligations towards Republics in exchange for protection. We have retaken our planet and repopulated and rebuilt without outside help from the Republic. I came for a guarantee that our previous agreement with the Republic will be honored now, too.” 

Poe wasn’t entirely surprised by the demand, and by the looks of it, neither was Xiono or any of the other former republican senators. A few of the younger, newer delegates looked dumbfounded though, and a female Mon Calamari tilted her head in confusion as she regarded the Mand’alor. 

“Surely,” she said, her gills quivering lightly, “There is safety in numbers. Are your people not interested in the safety of a pact of protection?” 

The Mandalorian warrior standing just behind the Mand’alor, with green armor, snorted audibly even as the Mand’alor replied, sounding mildly amused, “We are perfectly capable of protecting ourselves. We have faced and survived extinction once already. We will do so again if needed.” 

Xiono inclined his head towards the Mand’alor. “I cannot speak for a government that has not yet been fully formed,” he began, “but I promise I will do what I can to ensure the promise the former Republic made will be remembered and honored.” It wasn’t a direct guarantee, and Poe could tell that the Mand’alor hadn’t expected one either. 

“Very well,” he nodded curtly, getting to his feet again. “Commander Dameron,” he said, tilting his head in Poe’s direction. “It’d been good to see you again. My son will be delighted to hear his favorite Resistance pilot survives.” He turned back to Xiono and added, “We will be staying within the city for a fortnight to ensure our presence isn’t… _required_ to ensure our planet’s independence.” His voice dropped an octave and the unspoken threat was heard by everyone in the room, Poe was sure.

With that, he marched out of the room again, his two guards following on his heel. 

Poe, however, was smiling—he couldn’t wait to see the little hellion child again, and hoped that he would be able to soon.

Finn would _love_ the child.

And with that, his thoughts took off in an _entirely_ new direction; one he hadn’t allowed himself to wander into before, especially not during the war.

But now? Now there was a new… something being formed, a safety net of sorts as had been said, and a period of stability that they would fight tooth and claw and nail and horn to keep. Rey was busying herself with eradicating the enclaves of Dark force users—refusing all but the barest help in some form of fucked up penance, but by the galaxy’s heart, it seemed to be working. 

She stopped by every so often like she was doing now—well, she’d somewhat been forced to, this time—but each time he saw her she seemed more confident, assured, at peace with herself and the work she was doing, even if she was more… grey than Light or Dark these days. She would be off again soon enough, but he hoped one day she would settle down with him and Finn and Rose and the other friends who’d made plans to form a community on Yavin IV— _soon, and leave the rest of the politicking to those who asked for it_. 

And, perhaps… perhaps they could all settle down in other ways too.

Carry on the Dameron name, even if not the Skywalker one.

It was a lovely thought, and it sustained him throughout the rest of the meeting where humanity was being _decidedly_ dragged—and rather rightfully, honestly. 

* * *

**UNKNOWN REGION (7 months ABE)**

The galaxy started to settle after that. 

The Alliance of Worlds wasn’t perfect, Rey knew—especially hearing Poe and Finn yell and complain over holovid practically every other day, it seemed—but it was settling into something that could _be_ good. 

Good for all the people of the galaxy, and not just for humanity and the former powerhouse worlds that had dominated the Republic _and_ New Republic. It wasn’t exactly their fault that they were the most populous and widespread of all the races within the galaxy—first to spaceflight, first to colonization, started near the Galactic Core; it all added up to dominance along with the fact that humanity as a whole were rather… vicious… and very, very good at surviving planets no other race wished to even set foot or paw or fin on—but the newly minted Alliance of Worlds had somehow found a way to handle the small contingent of anti-human sentiment in a way that was actually rather satisfying for all parties involved. 

Checks and balances, historians called in and consulted on what had gone right, what had gone wrong, in the last _three millennia_ , and the politicians had actually listened, had actually come up with a system that looked like it was going to _work_ —she only knew this much because she’d become a somewhat unwilling victim of said politics herself and had _had_ to learn. 

She’d not really wanted anything to do with it, but Rose and Jannah—after Finn and Poe had failed rather spectacularly at convincing her—had shown her exactly how it could be fitted into her _own_ goals. The goals that brought her to all corners of the galaxy, seeking out the pull in the Force that was so, so, very Dark, and had to be eradicated. But the worlds freed from their presence were receptive to hearing about the Alliance, to being told the tale of the rise and fall of the First Order, of the Battle of Exegol—and of Ben, the true hero.

The other half of her soul. 

It made up for the death she brought everywhere she went, at least in part—and, most importantly, it soothed her heart and soul to finally speak of the man she loved, even if it were to strangers.

Perhaps _especially_ because they were strangers.

Yet still she did her duty to the galaxy. 

She didn’t like that she had become a killer… the judge and _executioner_ , but not a one of those she found had any trace of brainwashing or coercion like Ben’s mind had shown at even the slightest glance. Each of these Dark Force users, one here, three there, no more than five at a time, had _wanted_ to kill, to dominate, to rise to the levels of the Sith once again.

Rey often shuddered, thinking of her…. her _grandfather,_ as disgusting as the fact may be… and how his obsession had almost led the galaxy to its knees. Perhaps even to its very destruction.

For the Force could not live with the Dominance of only one of its halves.

Plus, it wasn’t like she hadn’t killed before, even before she’d left Jakku. Evil beings were not the sole purveyance of the Force, and she had been abandoned at such a young age… and had looked too pretty for far too many being’s paws and hands and tentacles to stay where they were meant to.

She’d done what she had to, just as she was doing what she had to now.

Rey offered all she could to give them a second chance, but they were single-minded in their determination. She would never eradicate the scourge of the Dark, but she could control it through a lifetime of work—both in seeking out and destroying, or converting, those who would bring ruin to the balance… and in teaching those others who were drawn to the Light.

Balance. 

She would need to be there for the next generation eventually… just not yet.

She wasn’t ready.

* * *

**EXEGOL SYSTEM (1 year ABE)**

The wind was cool on Rey’s cheeks as it swept up and over the rocky outcropping she was standing upon, fluttering even the heavy layers she wore. She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes and just _feeling_ the way the air moved her hair as she reached up and loosened the bottom two buns she’d set into her hair earlier that day, though she left the top secure. She was sure Poe would have something to say about the mess the wind was making of her previously tamed hair, twice as long as the last time he’d seen her, but he could just deal because this felt wonderful.

There wasn’t anything quite like this world, she thought, even after all of the planets she had seen recently, her travels taking her far and wide in an effort to bring balance and to spread word of the strides being made for the Alliance… for the whole _galaxy_. 

In the year since the Battle of Exegol, she’d practically become a hermit again, albeit one who was on the move; licking her wounds in private, working hard through day after day to hone her abilities, to come to terms with _who_ and _why_ she was, and ignoring those who’d approached her except for the four who had become dearest to her heart—she would not have missed Finn and Poe’s wedding, and their _insistence_ that she be the one to marry them, to swear on the Force and the Life essence of the galaxy to always be _one,_ and through the Force bind them _as_ one. 

There had not been a dry eye in the room, including hers—and though she was glad that their efforts to spread the word of what Ben Solo… Kylo Ren… had done, she could still barely stand the knowing looks that those who _knew_ shot her when they thought she wasn’t looking, and so had fled as soon as was publicly respectful. Finn and Poe had understood, dashing her tears off her cheeks with light kisses and sweeps of their thumbs, before telling her to go, to _be_ , to heal. 

Thankfully, there had been plenty to occupy her, and plenty that was new to occupy the press who now seemed to _love_ to hound her, in the wake of the First Order’s… and the New Republic’s… fateful collapse. 

But… Exegol could not be avoided.

Here she was again, one galactic standard year later, at Finn and Poe’s insistence—as well as some others in the Resistance she had maintained some degree of contact with. It was not the planet of Exegol, which had been utterly wiped out after… _after._ But it was _in_ the Exegol system, the next planet from the dark star that shone at the system’s core, light struggling to pass through the detritus littered throughout the system.

And yet, the planet was beautiful, still. Cold, stark, _haunting_ … but beautiful.

It was here that had been chosen to mark the first standard year since that harrowing day, and though Rey wanted to be anywhere _but_ here, she also… didn’t. She was glad she’d come, that she’d decided to give in to her friends’ pestering, glad that she had grit her teeth and bore the lonely journey out here, her thoughts filled with what-ifs and whys and other questions that hadn’t seemed to haunt her even in the dark of night on Tatooine, the next closest place she had felt to _him_. 

She was glad she’d come, because—other than the fact that, as soon as she’d landed and gathered her tattered heart about her, she’d been overrun by the smiling faces of the two living men who mattered most to her, all smiles and happiness, and no _fear_ like she had worried would come due to her recent duties—for once, for the first time in said year, she felt that maybe, just maybe, she could heal. 

That she, Rey Nobody, _just_ Rey, could overcome the multitude of horrors she’d lived through, _continued_ to live through, the painful knowledge of _who_ her blood and ancestors were… that just maybe, she could have a life. 

One that Tatooine didn’t, _couldn’t,_ offer her, and no other planet she had visited in the meantime could, no matter how welcoming—but also not the life that Finn and Poe were living, together, happily married, thinking of family, and as generals and advisors for the still fledgling Alliance of Worlds that was slowly emerging from the chaos and loss. 

But, perhaps, somewhere in the middle.

She felt something spark to life within her mind, her soul, her very _core_. Something that felt familiar and yet… different. She reached out towards it, lightly, with the barest of threads of the Force, and realized what it was.

Her Force bond. The one she’d had with… him.

_Dyad._

Rey lifted her fingertips to her mouth as her lips parted on a quick inhale of surprise. Then she was spinning in place, her feet pointing her unerringly in the direction of the destroyed planet where _it_ had happened—where, even now, what happened besides the barest generalities—for Ben’s reputation—lay _seared_ into her soul and hers alone. She had been the only living thing to escape from the planet’s clutches before she’d, gasping, called for its full destruction only just after leaving the atmosphere. 

The only reason she’d managed to escape the full debriefing on what had happened was because of Finn and Poe and Rose, who’d quickly smuggled her out of the chaos and disorder to a place she could _rest_. 

One day she’d have to face that music, but today was not that day.

They knew enough, and for now that would have to _be_ enough.

But this feeling… Was it because she was so close to where _he_ had died that she felt his presence? Was it her mind playing tricks on her? She knew she wished for him to still be here, to have that second chance his mother, father, and uncle had all died for. The free will and hope and a chance at love and _life_ that they’d all so desperately wanted for him… but in all her years, she’d never had so vivid an imagination that it could stir up something like _this_.

She loved him, desperately, but she had also come to terms with his absence.

Mostly.

This phantom Dyad bond, Force bond, though, was _cruel_ . A cruel trick for the universe, the Force, to be playing on her, after _everything she had done to move on_.

It felt so… real. So _there_. Impermeable, though it was but the faintest impression. As if it had never been severed from her mind so completely and so agonizingly.

Rey shifted both hands to her head, shifting them through her tangled hair so that she could press them to different portions of her skull, even as she stood, staring into the distance at the planetary graveyard that held her… the _Sith_ … and the other half of her soul.

She thought she’d left half of herself behind; that’s what it had felt like this long year. And yet, now, it was like something had slotted into place again inside of her.

It made her want to never leave for fear the feeling would abandon her once more as soon as she left the ground, this planet, this system. She was long-practiced in dealing with abandonment, but she didn’t know if she could handle _this_ abandonment twice.

Over the rush of the wind she heard someone calling her name. 

Rey let her eyes blink slowly closed for another long moment before sighing and letting her hands work at gathering her riotous hair back into its buns.

She had to look the part of Lady Rey, Hero of Exogol, The _Hunter_ , diplomat (of a sort) to the new Alliance of Worlds, and the—whispered—partner to the, in turns, good and evil Ben Solo. It wasn’t the worst fate in the world, to don what was just another mask to her now, but at least she’d only have to put up with politics for a few hours more.

For those who died, for their memories, for _all of them_ , even including the enemy, and including… _especially_ him, she could put up with a few hours of politicking after what had already been a brutal and painful memorial. For her. For everyone.

She took one last look at the place Exegol had once claimed in this planet’s sky, furrowed her brow at the sensation within the Force, and then turned back towards her fate.

They had died so that she could live.

And living when those you’d… _loved_ were gone, that was hard work.

She promised him— _Ben_ , the wind whispered to her—and Leia and Han and even Luke, that she would no longer hide.

She had too much left to give.

Too much Light to hide in the dark reaches of the galaxy.

* * *

She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised that people—the galaxy, the officials, the newly formed Alliance of Worlds—did not discuss Kylo Ren. There were brief mentions of Ben Solo, but she knew that they knew who he was. She had been a part of the deliberate revelation of that knowledge, trusting Poe when he’d told her that the time to let it be known had been in the immediate aftermath of the battles, when everyone was too busy with cleaning up and surviving and healing to hold on to too much hate.

People were tired of hate. Even now. 

But still, there were uncomfortable whispers Rey, Finn, Poe, the entire Resistance that had formed a wall behind their backs and supported their stance—and Rey just wished they would _stop_.

She knew they wouldn’t. 

For now, she would have to be content that they were deliberately staying away from a public trial—a trial for someone dead and _gone_ —but she was also grateful that they had chosen to let the topic be.

For now.

Let the galaxy heal. 

Then let the people truly acknowledge that the second half of their greatest saviors had been a traitor for the bulk of his life. They knew…. But they did not look further than what they were told.

Yet.

* * *

**THE GALACTIC CORE (2 years ABE)**

The feeling didn’t go away.

It chose, instead, to haunt her mind and follow her from planet to planet as she pieced together the answers to lingering questions from the war. In fact, it only seemed to be getting stronger with time—and even distance—from that moment where she’d stood overlooking the memorial and stared up at the skies.

That had been almost a whole other year ago now, and yet _he_ still followed her presence everywhere. Inescapable. Inevitable.

He, or something _like_ him.

The way he’d _always_ felt to her, upon reflection; the reason she had fought so hard against him in the first place. She hadn’t wanted him to hold such a powerful place in her destiny, yet it was likely he hadn’t expected her at all either. Neither of them had wanted the other… not at first… seeing each other as a threat to the status quo and to everything they’d held dear. 

Or, at least, she thought once more with a sense of immense unfairness, what they _thought_ they’d held dear. Rey’s sense of purpose in the seeking of who and what she was, who her parents were, _where_ they were, all of that had been a lie, a _smokescreen_ … and _his_ entire sense of self, maybe even his thoughts themselves, his memories, his personality… not even his own.

Twisted and molded by Snoke-Palpatine into what the Darkness had wanted him to be, what those men—or, rather, a _singular_ man—had wanted of him before he’d even been born. The seed of his greatest student, the padawan, the Jedi Knight, he had corrupted. And then did _again_. 

From before the cradle to nearly his grave, they had owned Ben Solo.

His sense of self had been recovered by the will of others at barely the last moment—her role in his resurrection of self the _least_ of it. But just in time to save _her_.

She wasn’t sure if she would ever think of it as a fair trade.

But he had lifted her from Death, and she would honor him and the price he had paid so that she might live.

She would honor him by _living_ rather than existing.

Rey felt a prickling at the back of her neck, as if someone was there, but no… no, she was still alone, readying to leave the docks of Coruscant in a ship that suddenly felt too small.

Only twenty-two and already so lonely…

Perhaps it was time she did something about that.

* * *

**YAVIN IV (3 years ABE)**

In the years since they had moved back to Yavin IV, settled in a house not far from where his father lived and had started their own family, Poe had gotten used to waking up to find one or several relatives or neighbors in their kitchen. It was the price they’d paid for settling in a small community, for choosing to stay near Poe’s father now that he was getting older, for choosing to start a family. 

He was not, however, used to waking up at the crack of dawn, only an hour or two after he’d fallen asleep after feeding the baby, to the sound of their son crying and his husband’s side of the bed cold and empty. 

With a groan, Poe rolled out of the comfort of his warm bed and padded into the adjoining nursery, where their six-month-old son was doing his best to make his displeasure about being awake known. Poe had learned to differentiate between his cries very early on—this was really just Noah expressing displeasure at having to face the world. 

His _I’m-hungry_ or his _I-want-to-be-held_ cries were both higher-pitched and slightly more piercing. 

“Hey buddy,” Poe said soothingly, lifting the baby out of the bed and cradling him close to his chest. “Not so happy about it being morning, then?” Noah just continued crying and Poe sighed, rocking his son gently while also humming soothingly. “That’s okay,” Poe muttered, lifting the baby just a little higher so he could press his lips to the top of his soft little head. “That’s okay, I’m not always happy when it’s morning either, but we gotta face the day anyway, don’t we?” 

Noah sniffled, but quieted down and looked up at Poe with big, startlingly green eyes. 

“Yeah,” Poe chuckled, trailing his fingers over Noah’s chubby little cheek. “Yeah, just like that. Let’s go see what your papa is up to this early in the morning, shall we?” 

Noah cooed a little and settled in his arms, and Poe smiled, pressing one more kiss to his son’s cheek before padding downstairs, assuming he’d find his wayward husband in the kitchen. He was, indeed, in the kitchen—but he wasn’t alone.

Poe blinked at the older woman who was sitting at his kitchen table, smiling pleasantly at him, sipping from a cup of caf. “Good morning,” she said in Basic, an unfamiliar accent twisting the vowels ever so slightly. “Your husband was ever so kind to invite me and my son in while we waited.” 

“Waited?” Poe croaked, still blearily wondering if he was somehow dreaming. 

“For Rey,” Finn said from the doorway to the backyard, where Poe could just about see a small form—with the same red hair as the guest in their kitchen—curled up underneath his father’s old Force tree. “This is Savat—she and her son, Iska, have been looking for someone to help them train their abilities in the Force for a long time. They were guided here, but,” he smiled, self-deprecating, and shrugged. “I think their abilities are a little beyond what I can help them with.” 

Savat grinned a sharp grin. “He was kind enough to call in _expert_ help.” 

Poe blinked again, looking between his husband and the strange, _strange_ woman at his kitchen table, before deciding this was too much to deal with before he had even had a single cup of caf. 

He turned to Finn. “Noah and I are going back to bed. Wake me up when Rey gets here.” He ignored Finn’s amused huff of laughter and turned to Savat. “Nice to meet you. I’ll be more than happy to pretend I am a good host when I have had more than a few hours of sleep.” 

He ignored the way she and Finn laughed as he exited the kitchen, looking down at his son, who was already dozing again. “Just you and me, kid,” he chuckled. “Let’s take another nap.” 

* * *

**YAVIN IV (3 years, 1 month ABE)**

Rey fell back, exhausted, onto what she considered to be the first true bed she’d ever owned in her entire life.

She hadn’t _wanted_ students, hadn’t _wanted_ this for herself, not yet—not until she could think over what Luke had done wrong, what she could do to prevent anything like that from happening again, or even _if_ she wanted to teach after all—but fate had an interesting way of shoving aside all her wants and interests and desires for herself and replacing them with much larger fates and destinies, all of which had been thrust into her hands despite her protests.

If the Force willed it so… that had become her mantra.

So she had readied her ship for one last voyage, made sure to pick up anything she might need for an extended stay on Yavin IV, and then was on her way.

Finn was taking care of the smaller details—like where she would _live_ ; she supposed that was a larger detail, in fact—and using his time at the table of Alliance delegates to set up something approaching a treaty between what would become a kriffing _Force user school_ and the Alliance that was rightful to be leery of them.

Let _him_ deal with the trouble he’d pulled her into.

She sighed, recognizing she was being rather unreasonable, especially considering she herself had acknowledged she would eventually need to create and run and teach a school just such as this.

She just hadn’t expected it to be so _soon_ . She wasn’t ready—she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be ready, honestly, for this much… this much _responsibility_. 

But she refused to let herself become bitter over the hijacking of her life for the will of the Force. She had _promised_ that she would live for those who had come before, and life meant duty. 

And she, in the end, was in possession of knowledge that should and must be passed down. Not the knowledge of the Jedi, but the warning of their hubris, the danger of the Sith, the Darkness and the Light tugging at both sides of one’s soul a delicate balance that must be attained and maintained. That sort of knowledge, that sort of grit and determination, foreknowledge of what had come before and all that had been done in the name of Good and Evil both… it must be shared. 

Never ignored as if an inconvenient truth. 

She couldn’t allow herself ten or twenty years of wandering before she slowly settled into her role. She’d thought she’d had the time, that she _could_ , that she could ignore the prickling of nearby _good_ Force-sensitives in the back of her mind for just a _little_ bit longer… in favor of dealing with the ones who were a blight upon the soul of the galaxy.

But when Poe and Finn had called her to their new—well, in Poe’s case, old—home on Yavin IV, explaining to her that there was a Force-sensitive woman and her son who’d shown up seeking help and there was only so much Finn could do to help them… well, she had sighed, and gone.

She’d arrived four days ago, greeted the newcomers and assured them they were welcome, seen them settled in, and then promptly ignored them to spend two full days with the godson she had not yet laid eyes on.

And then back to saving the galaxy from itself she went.

But she had also smiled. Because, despite everything, this course felt right to her. It was like something slotting into place within her—and not just because of the feel of a babe in her arms—like a lid sliding into place to smother all her fears and worries about what might be; what mistakes she might and _will_ make along the way.

 _His_ presence within her had seemed to pulse at her soothingly, and she shivered at the memory of it. The reality of it now, still there but dulled to a low strength in her exhaustion. 

It had only been two days, but the Force-sensitive woman, Savat, and her boy, Iska, had put her through her paces once again. There was much for them to unlearn… and much for her to understand. To perhaps unlearn, herself, considering how absolute _shit_ her education had been, even with all the knowledge of the Jedi before her crowding around inside her skull—much of that knowledge was best ignored in fact. She would find her own way, picking and choosing what worked best. But at least, while Rey figured out what the hell to teach them about the Force, both were proficient in combat, that being the only way the mother and son had learned to control the Force in their years of keeping their heads low. 

So that was where they started, and that was what she was exhausting herself with each day and night.

It didn’t hurt that she had an ulterior motive for exhausting herself.

Because only then did she find some measure of control over her own soul, shutting her mind to the fact that the other half of her was _right there, if only she could just reach out and tug it back into place_ and frustrated when she couldn’t… and finding sleep only then, where he could no longer haunt her with his presence.

“ _Please_ ,” she murmured darkly as sleep pulled her under—yet the Force soothed her, everything would be okay… and she wasn’t even sure what she was saying ‘please’ for.

 _Stay or go. Just choose,_ though, was clearly communicated to the man who couldn’t help but watch over her.

* * *

**CHANDRILA (3 years, 5 months ABE)**

He chose.

She… thought so, at least.

Perhaps it was the concussion speaking—or worse; she wasn’t even sure how she’d survived except because of— 

No, she had to have imagined it.

She was lying in the medbay of nearby Chandrila, heavily medicated but proud of herself for at least being able to remember where she was, even if her mind was making up all these other things to taunt and tease and tempt her.

The why and how she was here were another matter entirely.

She remembered… smoke. Multiple someones concealed to all of her senses until the very last moment they were upon her… then there was nothing. Or rather, there were only flashes of _something_. Fighting back. Giving as good as she got. She wasn’t called a force to be reckoned with, feared, in the galaxy for nothing.

She had defeated the most powerful Sith in generations. 

And yet still they’d somehow snuck up on her. There had been the impression of hands, words, lips, fingers… long fingers wrapping her hand around the saber she had lost in the struggle, pressing until the grooves dug into her palm and the pain of that and the wound in her side slowly started to bring things into focus.

Strength had surged through her from _him_ —it couldn’t be; how!?—and then she was pulling herself to her feet, blood dripping from her side as she finished dispatching her attackers just as they were about to plunge the vibroblades back into her. She remembered making sure the coast was clear, calling for backup from Finn, who was nearby, and then collapsing into the arms of someone… of _him_ … and keeping a half-awake awareness until help arrived.

She thought she’d dreamed it all up, but here she was in the hospital, _alive_ even if wounded badly, and drifting halfway through waking and sleep far too often for her liking.

It _had_ happened.

But… had he?

* * *

In the middle of the night arms pulled her back into a comforting embrace, her back to a broad chest covered in thick material, and so warm, so… good.

She didn’t quite wake, but she _dreamed_ of reaching out and twining her fingers with his, tucking his hands close beneath their arms and pressing them tight against her belly despite the lingering pain. Warm and good and right; it was all that and more she only let herself dream of having.

He was gone, and she needed to accept that.

So she drifted, day after day. Finn came by to check on her, she could remember that well enough, as well as the local governor of the planet they’d been on, whom she’d inadvertently protected from an assassination attempt by simply stumbling upon the damn plot like she was in some ridiculous holovid crime show.

She still smiled at the woman, glad she was safe and could continue her talks with the Alliance about their world joining. Rey was only happy to help with that aim where she could.

Then she’d slip back into her doze when the doctor came by to administer more medication, and grit her teeth at his assured, “Just a few days more, Master Rey.”

It was only on the last day of her estimated stay at the Chandrila medbay that he finally came to her.

It seemed he had waited long enough.

* * *

“I was born here, did you know?

Rey’s breath caught at the sound; the voice of the one who haunted her dreams and nearly every waking hour. The voice she could picture so clearly, who’d whispered countless unremembered things to her dreaming soul. The voice which rested on her, so heavily, like an undelivered promise.

This was no memory.

Rey only just managed to pull herself up on the medbay bed, leaning heavily on the railing as her eyes sought him out— 

And found him.

Ben.

Kylo Ren.

Ben Solo.

First Knight.

Jedi Apprentice.

_Ben._

Sitting in the small chair, his presence felt so large that she swayed back and forth, one hand gripping and propping herself up tightly and the other pressing against her head as she closed her eyes, wondering if she were hallucinating— 

“I’m here. Finally… _Rey._ I choose to stay.”

“You helped me,” she murmured, eyes shut tight. “That fight. You saved my life. Again.” A wry twist of the lips before she opened her eyes again and—yep, he was definitely still there.

As her eyes opened, he caught and held them, gazing into them in that intense, possessive way he’d always had, just barely restrained… not necessarily bad, but it was _a lot…_ _He_ was a lot to handle, even in semi-corporeal form.

He held himself back, though it looked like he wanted to wrap her in his arms… this time in Life instead of Death. 

Then with a wry twist of his own lips, he smiled that infuriatingly beautiful smile at her and said, “Couldn’t let all my hard work go to waste,” before fading from her eyes and leaving her blinking strangely at the doctor, Finn, and BB-8 as they knocked and entered her room.

Rey felt a light breeze on her neck and suppressed a shiver, turning instead to face the grueling task of getting her butt out of the hospital after being stabbed in the damn kidney. 

Ben could wait.

He’d taken three and a half bloody years to show up, she thought with more than a hint of irritation, not even wondering at her acceptance of said fact. Just… taking it in as it came, one step at a time, and trying not to look like a crazy person in front of her friends—and certainly not letting a _politician_ see that _The_ war hero was talking to ghosts.

She wanted to cuss him out, she wanted to kiss his stupid mouth shut, she wanted to press her fingers to those dangerous lips and press her body tight against his once more… All those things she couldn’t have anymore. Not with him.

Force ghosts. Of all the dumb myths about the Jedi, did that have to be one of the things that turned out to be reality?

She couldn’t help the bright light that started to burn within her heart and soul, though.

He’d come back for her.

* * *

Though the New Republic had died with the five planets of the Hosnian system, they had chosen to rotate its site with the elections, and so Chandrila had become the first home of the government once again. No longer the New Republic, but using its basis and bases to regain some manner of control over their spiralling worlds. Whatever resource they had, big or small, was a tether to the galaxy, pulling its tattered pieces back into the fold. After the first term they would rotate to a new planet, but one that had the sufficient resources to plan, protect, and host what the Alliance hoped it could become.

And so she was finally near enough for the politicians to grab hold of _her_ and pull her back in, asking questions she might—finally—feel confident enough about answering.

Ben hadn’t reappeared to her over the last five days she’d been on Chandrila, but she could feel his presence as sure as a wall at her back, a wall of warmth and growing curiosity and even… protectiveness of her.

And love. Love he no longer cared to hold back, for no one living or dead had sway over his mind anymore. No one could kill him for the mere act of loving the scavenger girl— _his_ scavenger girl. The one he had loved so much that he could do nothing less than give his life force so that she might have the chance at a better life he would _never_ have.

It was a heady feeling, made stronger, then _reciprocated_ as she was asked the one question everyone had been wondering these last three and a half years since the Battle of Exegol:

“What was Ben Solo’s role in all of this?”

Rey squared her shoulders, slowly drawing her face up to meet the eyes of those present, one after the other. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” she said quietly, but with a subtle edge of steel to her tone.

One of the women—a pre-Alliance Senate member from before the war, from Coruscant, if she recalled correctly—gave her a piercing look. “We do. We wish to hear from you, first hand, what he did… before and after.” 

Protectiveness of her own washed over her, even as she heard the undercurrent of the woman’s words (before _and_ after—the woman _believed_ in what happened to him) and she settled determinedly on the response that felt the most _right_.

“Ben Solo is a hero,” she uttered with finality, her tone leaving no room for argument, even though she was just warming up. Her eyes flashed. “When I, _we_ , needed him the most, he was there. It may have been the very last moment, but the only reason we won is because he and I fought as one and took out an evil that had been festering for far too long. He gave his life to save mine, and though sometimes I question him for it, I will do my best to honor that sacred gift, by honoring his memory. With truth.”

She said the next to him, knowing somehow that he would sense her intent. 

“He is my other half; we are one in the Force. He is with me, as I am with him, even in Death and parted by Life. Only together did we defeat the Darth Lord Sidius, one Emperor Palpatine, who had somehow survived all _your_ efforts to eradicate him, and then presented himself as Snoke of the First Order, also known as the Supreme Leader. All of it was a front for—” her breath hitched a little, and she held onto her sense of identity as tightly as she could, refusing to let them know who _she_ was to the man; preferring to forever be Nobody.

“—for power. The creation, the seed of the Force, is what he was looking for, so that he could grow in power. To artificially control the only true Natural Power in the universe. All along, he was waiting for us, just beyond the dunes and out of our sight.” She hedged a little bit, walking the tightrope of lies and half-truths and misdirections she would have to maintain—but only she knew the full breadth of the truth.

“He attempted, on both of us, to harvest our power. That is the simplest way I can put it. He sought to use us. As pawns, as vessels, as powerful and more immersed in the Force than he. I was hidden from him as a child at great cost; he already had his eyes on me, though I do not know much more on that topic and all has been lost on Exegol. Frankly for the best it all was lost.” She shuddered, and everyone let her gather herself before she continued.

“But he… he had Ben from before his birth, and used the Darkness he himself had planted in him to splinter him from his family. To make him feel abandoned and alone, even as I felt abandoned and alone on Jakku. He had one of us, not both like he wanted, though we were more alike than we, than he, knew.” 

Memories flashed through her mind of their very first meeting. “When I encountered Kylo Ren… it was everything that Palpatine wanted, but even then… even then Ben fought against him, even if he did not know why. Alone, as we had once been, we could not have managed to defeat the Emperor, but we did it together once the… spell, the _hold_ over Ben had been broken and he was returned to his rightful mind. We killed him together, but in the process it killed me…” Her breath shuddered at the still visceral memory, wishing it could all be taken back, that they could have another _chance_. “And then… then Ben gave me his Life force. His own essence. No matter that I had just saved his own life, he deemed mine worthier, as I know some of you might agree to.” 

She fought to keep the bitter edge from her tone as she glanced around at the confused but attentive faces. “I understand the Force has become somewhat of a legend in the last… I don’t know how many decades. That not many truly understand it, if they believe in it at all. I was once like that. Much of it is still a mountain of knowledge with no context for me, piled inside my mind with no easy way to access it, but I know some of you were alive to remember the days of the Jedi and their powers. So you understand, or at least accept, some of what occurred. Some of what I am telling you. 

“His Force, his essence, flows in me as surely as mine does, and we are one. That is how he could do what he did, how _we_ could do what we did in putting a stop to the plot against the known galaxy. Palpatine, Snoke, the Sith ardents or whatever he called them, his people and clones and research, it is all gone, as you know, along with the body of the _hero_ Ben Solo.”

She placed a hand on her chest. “Yet he is still with me. If you wish to try him for his crimes, you would have no choice but to try me for them as well. For I am he, and he is I.” She wasn’t sure what to say after that, how to continue, so she simply settled into silence to see if there was anything further, politely ignoring the tracks of tears on Finn’s face where he stood across the hall from her at the back of the room—in fact, there were more tears on more faces than she knew what to do with, so she ignored them, and her own, as best she could. 

After the intensity of the last minutes, there were only a few more clarifying questions, and they moved through those smoothly until the last, sharpest, loaded question.

“When did he become Kylo Ren?” asked someone whom she could not see.

As if she had not _just answered that_.

Fool.

Rey went completely still, and felt the Force envelop her, both rage and peace at once, but powerful, so _powerful_. The injustice of it all, the wrongs that had been done to Ben, by family, friends, strangers… those who had promised to care for him and who ultimately betrayed him.

Who was the betrayer, and who the betrayed?

“In stages,” she finally began, and then settled for the blunt truth, feeling a sense of cold calm that was not entirely hers surround her. “When Palpatine reached through the Force to touch him in his mother’s womb. When he, a child seeking love, was ignored _for the greater good_ of forming the New Republic. When his father didn’t know how to handle him and spent increasing amounts of time away from home, his son, his wife. When he was sent away to an uncle who barely knew him, who barely understood him, who barely _tried_ because the memory of his _own_ _father—of Darth Vader_ —was something he still had yet to deal with. When the boy was powerful beyond measure, and made to feel _different_ because of it _,”_ she exhaled shakily, a little overwhelmed by the emotion in her own words. 

“When Palpatine kept whispering to him in dreams. When no one taught him that anger was _acceptable_ even if it should be controlled, rather than feared and rejected and ignored, left to fester and be fodder to be preyed upon. When his uncle, the one person he could only somewhat rely on anymore besides that dark voice, tried to _murder him in his sleep_ because he was too afraid of what _could be_.”

There were several gasps, and the few faces Rey could see were _aghast_ at the accusation towards Luke Skywalker, who had, after all, been the one to save the galaxy from the Emperor the last time. She continued stubbornly—let them work that out all on their own; she had no desire to explain Luke’s actions to anyone. “And yet, that action became the self-fulfilling prophecy he had feared since the birth of his nephew, the continuation of the tainted Skywalker line and saga.”

By the end of what had probably been her longest series of speeches in her lifetime, she was breathing deeply, struggling to contain the tears for what had been lost, for what had been cast aside and left, unwanted, for someone evil to pick up and treat as a very special, shiny, toy—yet with very little will of its own. A puppet indeed, to the greatest puppet master the galaxy had seen in nearly three millennia. 

She was angry, and yet she felt at peace, her breaths slowing steadily.

She had said her piece—and found her peace. 

Finally, the silence was broken after long minutes of contemplation with a, “Thank you, Master Rey. That will be all. Your sacrifices have been recorded and will forever be remembered and honored. You have the gratitude of the known galaxy, as does Ben Solo. Light and Life.”

“Not Master,” she said after a too-long, charged moment of silence. She finally stood, taking her time to stand tall and straight and proud. Unabashed, unashamed of the choices she would be making to shape the known universe. “There are no more Jedi Masters and there should be none again.”

A collective gasp spread through the hall.

“Then what shall we call you and yours? I understand there are seven in your tutelage now…?”

“I’m not sure,” she murmured, then her voice firmed. “Anything but that, though.” A pause as she assessed all that had been said, and if it had made any difference. “May the Force be with you.” 

“And also with you,” the assembly returned as one, nodding as she let herself out of the audience chamber.

She leaned against the wall for a moment, gathering her strength, holding in her tears, and only started breathing normally when she felt the pressure of Ben’s forehead against hers and his body lightly pressing her into the wall. It was with far less pressure than a real body would offer, but it was… there. It was there for her. _He_ was there.

For her.

She didn’t dare return the embrace, and they didn’t dare speak, but they reveled in each other’s presence for a few long minutes before Rey felt she had enough energy to fly home—along with the energy required to speak to Finn and the odd form of sympathy he gave her whenever Ben was mentioned. 

It was going to be a long ride home.

Perhaps after she left she could catch him alone—or herself, rather—and they could finally speak. It was a frightening prospect, but it also filled her with exhilaration at the prospect. 

It was only halfway into her ship with Finn and BB-8 that she realized for the first time that somewhere actually felt like home.

She had a future, she had a purpose, and she had a _home_.

* * *

**YAVIN IV (3 years, 6 months ABE)**

By the time she reached Yavin IV, the messages had arrived from Chandrila recounting part of the events that had occurred. 

They were calling her Lady Rey.

With a shiver she thought of the Sith, of the Knights of Ren… of Kylo. Of Ben fighting his brothers and sisters in arms on Exegol. She shivered, not knowing what to think or feel or _do_ , but try as she might, the name seemed to stick.

She was too tired to fight it.

And yet it was still better than the Jedi honorific of Master. 

_Master_.

Lady was far more preferable. She could remake that image.

But there was nothing to be done for the term the Jedis had used.

She would see it dead and buried.

Plus, well, Finn rather found it ‘cool’ to call her Lady Rey.

Rolling her eyes, she allowed him his fun, and then stole her godchild right out from under his nose so that she could have quality time with little Noah—while his parents had quality time of _their_ own.

 _Ah, Life,_ she smirked.

Somehow it always managed to keep moving.

She felt arms wrap around her, even if she couldn’t see them, and knew that Ben was curious about the child in her arms, so she spent the next two hours sitting in the garden beneath Poe’s father’s Force tree, telling him all about little Noah and his two dads.

She hadn’t felt so content in… ever.

And yet it still felt as if something was missing—and it wasn’t Ben; she knew he was there, she knew he would appear to her again. But… something was lacking, and she couldn’t quite put her fingers on.

Still… she was happy… so happy. 

* * *

“Thanks for looking after the training while I was away, Savat,” Rey said gratefully to the other woman. The redhead was a lot… bossier than Rey was, perhaps because she had her own child, but thankfully the woman hadn’t given her much trouble beyond her own struggles with unlearning survival skills set in place for over a decade. She’d been lucky to survive her childhood, and so had Rey, honestly, and she thought that perhaps they saw that in each other. She was a good fit for a second in command until someone more knowledgeable came around, even if they _were_ all muddling their way through this.

At least they were doing it together.

“Not a problem at all,” Savat nodded as she replied, then started backing up with a lazy little salute to her brow, her smile less brittle than it had been when they’d first met. “Goodnight.”

As Rey closed the door, she was honestly not that surprised to see Ben’s shape waiting for her in the dusk of her room. “She’s got quite the right hook, I’ll say, and that grapple she taught you is honestly genius, but she’s definitely got a long way to go before she can wield a saber.”

Rey ignored him. Instead she gestured between them. “So are we going to talk about _this_?”

Ben arched an eyebrow at her and let the silence brew a few seconds too long for Rey’s comfort. Then, “ _You_ were the one who decided to train for two hours after dark even _after_ spending hours at the Damerons.”

“With _you_ , I might remind you,” she shot back with a roll of her eyes.

“Rey.” His eyes softened. “Those were some of the best hours I’ve had in… in…”

“In our lives,” she finished for him. For _them_.

There was no way he missed that; that she felt this, together, with him. 

Their childhoods had been traumatic, but in some ways it offered them a chance to share the good, new experiences together. And that was precious beyond words to her.

She could sense his nervousness as clearly as if it were her own—and some of it _was_ —and she could bear it no longer. This separation, however minuscule, when they _belonged_ together. 

Rey opened her eyes and it took no more than a widening of his eyes and a whispered, “ _Please_ ,” before he was in her arms. The odd semi-corporeal feeling seemed to fade more and more into a true solidness the longer they held each other, even if it was never quite _fully_ right, fully _there_. But the more confident he became with her whispered words of devotion, of wanting him there, of wanting him in her life for however long he could be, of how much she loved him—and his words in return worked just the same, tying him to her and this plane of existence as if she were his port in a storm. 

He was… still the same. 

The same man she had been both afraid of and fearful for, concerned for. The same man who had, time and again, had the chance to kill her, and yet had instead killed _for_ her. The same man she had protected, had sent herself to, trusting him to keep her safe even though what they’d had was so new as to be nearly non-existent—and yet it had seemed like the whole world to them both. The same man who had started to crack beneath her scrutiny, whose past had come out in pieces with or without his permission. The same man who had seen her past, seen _her_ when no one else had. 

The same man who had become her, and she had become him.

And yet… there was no more Kylo Ren, except for the faintest impression in the back of the mind now fully open to her. He was Ben now. Truly. Softer, kinder, a new person in many ways, but one Rey had nevertheless come to know. Even when he’d been Kylo Ren, Ben had been lurking in the depths of his mind.

But Rey had seen him. Rey had clung to him. Rey had fought for him. 

He was the same, and yet… not. And yet the ‘not’ had still become familiar to her for all that.

They held each other for who knew how long, her sense of time completely lost to the feel of him _finally_ in her arms again. She’d had so few opportunities to _be_ in his arms, and yet they felt more like home than even Yavin IV had become. 

Finally, he was the first to break the silence. “Was any of it true?”

“Any of what?” But she knew immediately what he meant; as soon as she’d responded to his question, clarity shone a light. Her gaze softened for this poor man who hadn’t ever known true love, insecure in this unlike so many other aspects of his existence. “Oh Ben,” she murmured. Her hand hovered over where the slightly blue luminescence of Ben’s cheek shone, his now pure-blue eyes nothing but bright, hopeful… intense. He had never been one to shy from his emotions, despite his uncle’s best attempts to ‘forbid them’, and now he had even fewer reasons to hide. 

“Yes,” she whispered, and a smile tugged at her expression—the first, genuine smile in what felt like years to grace her lips—as she felt firmness beneath her open hand cupping his jaw and in the way his body was pressed against hers, his arms wrapped tight around her. 

Even though they’d touched before—or rather, he had touched her as a… ghost—she hadn’t been sure it would work again. Holding him like this for the last… probably _hours_ … had been everything she hadn’t known she wanted.

“Before I died,” Ben whispered the words against her forehead, lips tickling her skin, “your mind was so open to me. So connected. It was… beautiful, and made all the more deep by the—the…” 

He blinked rapidly, not able to say that _she_ had died for him, as much as he had died for _her_. 

Rey knew exactly what he meant, that moment frozen in time, in her mind, for her forever. “I forgive you. I do. I meant it then and I meant it now. The same way I meant that—” Here she felt her cheeks blossom with heat and she paused for a long moment before looking him straight in the eye and pressing her other hand to his other cheek, making sure he kept holding her gaze. 

He deserved to be told this. To never doubt this. To never have any hint of uncertainty, even the smallest bit, that someone loved him. 

That _she_ loved him. 

Even if he could feel it through their bond, he needed the words, the same way she needed to be reminded she was wanted by her friends so many times, even now, after everything they had been through.

Kylo, _Ben_ , had been feared for too long, lonely for too long, when all he’d been was a boy who just wanted to be loved. To be acknowledged. To be helped when he stumbled, to be picked up when he fell. His family hadn’t been there for him, too afraid to approach, but there _had_ been one who lifted him up when his family failed—and groomed him, changed him, controlled his very heart and mind with a thought. 

Love would have made all the difference. 

“I love you.”

Silence fell between them and, though she was starting to feel absolutely awkward and embarrassed at her first ever confession of love—of _any_ feelings whatsoever, really, she was rather terrible at it—she continued to firmly cup his cheeks, practically cradling his beautiful face in the palms of her hands. She knew that this was an important moment between them, that it would define the rest of their life— _existence—_ and she also knew that if she was going to hold onto him as fiercely as she wished, as she _dreamed_ about; that she would need to impart just _how much_ this broken, healing Jakku girl loved the broken, healing Alderaanian boy. 

And then his arms were folding around her, tucking her against the almost-staticky substance his form was composed of, and resting his cheek against the top of her head as he let out a shaky exhale. 

“ _Force_ , I love you too,” was all he could whisper, over and over, until she quietly pulled him down onto her bed with her and let sleep start to pull her under. Emotions were _exhausting_.

Five minutes or five hours, she didn’t know how long he’d been repeating those words—all of her innate senses seemed to knock themselves out of whack every time he was near—but she knew that she would never tire of them. 

Of him. 

Force, she had missed him. 

She didn’t know what was going on, but she recognized a good thing when it was in front of her. 

He had given his life for hers, helped defeat the greatest enemy of the present-day galaxy, and fought against those who’d held him captive and warped his mind. 

It didn’t get much more ‘good’ than that. 

* * *

**YAVIN IV (4 years ABE)**

“Papa, papa, papa, up, up up!” 

Poe groaned into his pillow, pretending he wasn’t smiling as their son bounced up and down on his legs. Noah had recently learned how to climb out of his own bed and into theirs, and they had not had a moment’s peace since. He peeked out at Finn, who smirked at him and rolled over, mumbling, “Hey, he’s calling for you, not me, flyboy.” 

Poe rolled his eyes, but didn’t protest—it was their own fault, really: they should’ve known Noah would be up at the crack of dawn, he always was on days Rey was going to come over—and mentally prepared himself for a moment. He’d likely need it too—Noah was a tiny little ball of energy and Poe and Finn had been chasing him around since the second he’d learned to crawl. 

He rolled onto his back and _oof_ ’ed dramatically when Noah landed on his stomach, giggling ecstatically. “Papa, _up_ ,” he said seriously, pressing his tiny hands to Poe’s face. “ _Tía_ Rey.” 

Poe grinned up at his son and caught him around the waist. “Yes, _tía_ Rey is coming over later, you little monster. _Much_ later,” he chuckled, lunging up to blow a raspberry on his stomach while Noah _screamed_ in delight, wriggling and giggling in Poe’s grasp. 

“Papa, _stop,”_ he squealed, and Finn laughed quietly into his pillow before turning back towards them, looking up at them with an unbearably _fond_ smile that still made Poe’s insides flutter. 

“ _Pop_ ,” Noah screeched as soon as he realized Finn was also awake, wriggling intensifying as he made grabby hands at his other father. Finn chuckled and steadied Noah as Poe helped him sit up on Finn’s chest, bouncing excitedly. “I’ll tell Rey she can come early if she wants,” Finn told Poe as he helped Noah balance standing on his wobbly little legs, his tiny fingers curled around Finn’s. 

Poe wrinkled his nose, still not quite used to the idea that Finn and Rey could just kind of… _talk_ to each other in their heads, but nodded anyway. “I guess I’ll go make breakfast.” 

Finn nodded before returning his attention to Noah, who had exclaimed something incoherently and shook Finn’s hand as vigorously as he could to get his father’s attention again. “I’ll get Noah ready,” Finn said, not taking his eyes off their son, who was now chatting very animatedly, using his limited vocabulary with a range of sounds that were not quite words yet, bouncing his Finn’s stomach a little. 

“Sure,” Poe chuckled. “Have fun.” 

He leaned over to press a quick kiss to Finn’s lips before he rolled out of bed, pulling on the nearest shirt and running a hand through his messy curls as he made his way down to the kitchen, yawning as he went. 

Fortunately, the morning moved swiftly and smoothly, despite the obscenely early start, and before Poe knew it, he was feeding Noah eggs and cut fruits despite his son’s vocal protests, listening to Finn list off his plans for the day as he moved around the kitchen to finish up the breakfast Poe had started preparing for the two of them and Rey, who’d likely be there within minutes. 

Since Rey would be here to help Poe with Noah, Finn was planning to head up to the newly built senate building that would house the Alliance of Worlds once every few government cycles, to confer with the Alliance about which worlds needed aid the most, how to approach worlds and species that had been terrorized by the First Order, and how to re-establish interplanetary diplomacy. 

While Poe _had_ been withdrawing from the rebuilding and the politics more and more since they’d had Noah, Finn had found it a little harder to let go, a little harder to sit at home with nothing but their little family to occupy himself with. Finn hadn’t been made to sit still when there were still people to help, while there were still stormtroopers who needed someone to show them they were allowed to be _people_. 

Poe didn’t mind much—he’d been much the same when he’d been younger, and if someone had told him a few years ago he’d be settled down on Yavin IV with a husband and a kid, he probably would’ve laughed in their faces. Now, though, after the war, after losing so many people, after watching the galaxy nearly get destroyed _again_ , Poe was content in their little corner of the galaxy—was content to raise Noah and any other children they might choose to have in the future and help out where he was needed. 

He’d taught several of Rey’s gaggle of baby Jedi how to fly already, because while Rey was an amazing pilot, she wasn’t the most patient teacher when it came to flying. 

He helped Finn figure out complicated policies and communications, used the array of contacts he had assembled over the years to introduce Finn and Rose and Jannah of Company 77 to the right people to help them achieve their goals, and spent hours with Kaydel Connix going over the things Leia had left to him, the things that needed sorting, the things that needed transfering to various other agencies—

Leia had kept detailed diaries too, and had left them to him. 

Poe had read some of the passages, but he’d needed to put them down immediately too. 

It’d been too much, too soon—too honest. 

Leia’s words in the diaries had been brutally honest about everything—from her time in the Rebellion to her time as a senator in the Galactic New Republic, to watching her son struggle and being unable to help him, to hoping her brother would be able to connect with him where she couldn’t, to her struggling marriage, and to founding the Resistance—

He’d given the diaries over to Kaydel, trusting that she would see to it that Leia’s words, Leia’s _life,_ was treated with respect, and that her message was spread throughout the galaxy. 

People had loved her for years, even after the scandal of her parentage came out, and people deserved to know their Princess—their General. They deserved to know the woman who had died for them, who had seen her entire family die for them, and she deserved to be _known_. 

“Rey’s here,” Finn said, without even looking at the door as he set plates piled with breakfast on the table, running his fingers through Noah’s messy curls as he passed behind his chair, and a beat later, the kitchen door opened and Rey stepped inside. 

Poe looked between his husband and his best friend and shook his head. “I’m never going to get used to that,” he said as he spooned more eggs into Noah’s mouth. Finn and Rey grinned identical mischievous grins, and Poe rolled his eyes at them. 

He gave up on feeding Noah as soon as his son caught sight of Rey and started screaming in excitement, leaning back in his chair to watch as Rey swept Noah from his chair and into her arms, bouncing him on her hip as he babbled eagerly at her, immediately digging a little fist into her long, messy hair and tugging. 

Rey just smiled, gently untangling Noah’s hand from her long hair as she took a seat at the table and gratefully took the cup of caf that Finn offered her. 

Poe eyed her carefully. 

Since she had returned to Yavin and had started the school, there was something different about her—he hadn’t noticed immediately, but… the longer they were here and the more often he saw her… She was different. Before, he had never quite noticed that she slumped her shoulders. He’d never quite noticed that she tried to make herself smaller, after Exegol, that she seemed dimmed, whereas now…

It was like she was lighter, like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders.

Like she was whole again. 

He had his suspicions about what had caused this… this change in her—especially after reading Leia’s diaries—but he would not push the issue either. She would tell him and Finn what had changed when she was ready to talk about it. 

“How’re your mischievous little rancors doing?” Finn asked Rey through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, shooting Poe an apologetic smile for talking with his mouth full immediately after. Poe rolled his eyes at his husband and hooked his ankle over Finn’s under the table. 

Finn smiled at him, bright and happy, and Rey grinned as she regaled them with a story of two of their younger students sneaking out and stealing every left shoe in the temple, hiding them strategically in unused classrooms and abandoned loading bays. Finn cackled and piped in with a tale of his own that involved him and his squadmates dousing their superior’s black body glove and plastoid armor in itching powder. 

Poe snorted and decided not to bring up the many, _many_ pranks he and his own squadmates had pulled throughout their years at the Academy. 

They’d still be there the next morning if he started on that list. 

“I have to go,” Finn said eventually, after he’d finished his breakfast. “It’ll take me an hour to get there and then there’s the whole song and dance of signing in, letting people know I’m there, setting up the comms channel.” He pushed to his feet and leaned close to press his lips to Poe’s, a short, affectionate peck, before he rounded the table and swept Noah into his arms for a hug and a kiss on his cheek. 

Just as he made to hand Noah back to Rey, a flash of blue glimmered in the corner of Poe’s eye and it was almost like time slowed down a little, because as Poe turned to look, Rey’s eyes widened in surprise and Finn’s jaw dropped and Noah—Noah _squealed._

“Ben!” Poe’s son crowed excitedly, leaning forward out of Finn’s arms, making grabby hands towards the see-through blue figure of Ben Solo standing casually by their backdoor. “Ben, Ben Ben, Ben!” 

“Wha—” Finn breathed, turning towards Rey with a bewildered expression. 

Rey, to her credit, looked just as surprised by the turn of events as the rest of them were, staring at little Noah with an expression of absolute discombobulation. “He can see you?” she then said, looking up at Ben incredulously. 

“He’s always been able to see me,” Ben smirked, and he had never looked so much like Han before in his life. It was like seeing _two_ ghosts.

Poe exhaled a disbelieving breath and shook his head. “I need more caf,” he said, getting to his feet to refill his cup, eyeing his husband carefully from the corner of his eye. Finn had never been a fan of Kylo—of Ben—even though he accepted that the man was an indissoluble part of Rey’s life, even after death, and Poe had no idea how he was going to take it. 

Finn was still staring at the blue figure with wide eyes. 

“Finn?” Rey said softly, cautiously, reaching out towards him, and Poe hoped Finn wouldn’t snap at her, hoped he wouldn’t lash out or yell, because he could tell that this was what Rey had been hiding from them, this was what had made her _smile_ again—but Finn’s opinion had always meant _so much_ to her. 

Poe hoped Finn wouldn’t say anything he’d regret.

“I should’ve known,” Finn blurted then, looking between Rey and Ben. “I should’ve kriffin’ known.” He looked towards Rey and frowned. “How long has he been here?” 

“About a year,” Rey admitted hoarsely. 

Finn shook his head, but his lips were quirked up into a small smile. “Should’ve known,” he said again, and then bent down to hand their son back to Rey, showing explicitly that he still trusted her. “I gotta go.” He looked up at Ben and said, “If you hurt her again, I swear I’m going to find a way to slap a ghost.” 

Ben smiled broadly and held up his hands in supplication. “Fair enough.” 

Finn huffed and pressed a harsh kiss to Poe’s cheek on his way out, rolling his eyes as he went. Poe hid his grin in his cup and watched as Ben engaged his son in a game of peek-a-boo where he literally faded from visibility before popping back in. 

It was slightly surreal. 

More surreal was the look on Rey’s face as she looked between Ben and Noah—raw, unadulterated _longing_. 

Poe recognized the look. He’d worn it himself for months before they’d adopted Noah, before they’d become parents, before he’d _known_ what it felt like to love so wholly and completely that it was overwhelming. 

“Makes you want one, doesn’t it?” he said, drawing Rey’s attention to himself. 

Rey blinked at him and then looked down sheepishly. “A little,” she admitted, her cheeks coloring when Ben looked up at her tenderly. 

“You could have one,” Ben said, “A whole family if you wanted to.” 

Rey wrinkled her nose and patted her hand on Ben’s cheek in an intimately familiar gesture that Poe did not miss. “Don’t be silly,” she whispered, quietly. “I’m not doing this without you. Or with anyone else.” 

Poe wasn’t… Poe wasn’t entirely sure if that was a healthy attitude—after all, what kind of long term relationship was there to be had with a literal ghost?—but he hadn’t seen Rey smile this much since Leia died and he was loath to make her smile disappear again. 

“You could go about it in the classic Skywalker way,” Poe found himself suggesting, winking at Ben when the man made a face. 

“What—” Rey began, but Ben cut in, shaking his head. 

“She doesn’t need to hear th—”

“Oh, no,” Poe chuckled, and Ben groaned. “Your mom wrote about it in her diaries—apparently Obi-Wan and Anakin had a _lot_ of interesting stories to tell when they were Force ghosts.” He grinned at Rey and added, “Shmi Skywalker, Anakin’s mother—she became pregnant via the Force. There was no father.” 

Rey paled abruptly. “No, thanks. That’s—I’d rather not.” 

Poe chuckled and patted her shoulder, feeling the tension ease under his hand. “I’m gonna hit the ‘fresher. You two okay down here?” 

Rey smiled up at him and Ben grinned. 

“We got this,” Rey said, and Poe believed her whole-heartedly. He pressed a quick kiss to the top of his son’s head and then headed back up the stairs, pausing halfway up to listen to the happy chatter of voices from his kitchen. He was happy that Rey was happy, happy that she seemed to be doing so much better, now that Ben was… back, in a sense, but…

He thumped his head back against the wall and sighed. 

He hoped this would be good for her in the long run, too, even if he couldn’t see how it would be yet. 

* * *

**YAVIN IV (4.5 years ABE)**

It had been more than a year since he’d first appeared to her as more than a feeling, and a fear was building within her she could no longer contain. She stared at him, lying down on the bed beside her, face-to-face, his eyes tender in a way she would never tire of.

But perhaps she wouldn’t _have_ time to tire of them.

They had become more than partners, more than lifemates, a deeper bond than husband and wife with nothing hidden between them other than the occasional fear they didn’t even know they were feeling until suddenly the realization hit them—and as soon as it did, they spoke about it.

It had been much more than she had ever expected from a man, but she thought, ruefully, that perhaps she should never have expected anything less from a man who so adored his self-proclaimed wife the way that _he_ did.

They did everything together. Ben was somehow able to be seen by the growing number of Force-sensitives at the school, and yet his presence had still been _somehow_ kept under wraps—Rey and Ben strongly suspected a smug-looking (and rather threatening and wily when she wished to be) Savat—and even the occasionally visiting Mandalorian hadn’t batted an eye at his presence when checking the school out for his son. 

He went off world with her, helped her clean up the Darkness, helped her lead the Alliance and the core of the Resistance still with fight left in them to give towards outposts of… _resistance_ in the form of the First Order. Or, rather, the pitiful excuse for a grand organization they had once been, and were no longer.

And through it all, through the training and the traveling and the… everything, he never gave her any indication he wished to leave.

But his increased worry that he was holding her back had begun to eat at her mind in much the same way _those_ words might have.

And so she ambushed him. Because of course she did—even in serious moments such as these, she must have her fun somehow, should she not? 

“Promise me you won’t leave me again. I’ve been so alone for so long and—“ Rey whispered one morning as she was dressing for the day, as casual and normal as any other day they’d shared. 

At first he was silent, shocked that Rey would utter the words both had silently agreed never to speak of, but then his eyes softened as he drew her towards him, turning her around and placing her, standin, between his spread knees. His eyes had a sad edge to them, as if he knew some truth she would not like. “You have so many people in your life now; you don’t need me—“

She drew in a shuddering breath. “They’re not you. They don’t….” She rested her hand on his chest, delighting at the thrum of energy even if she could no longer feel a heartbeat. “They’re not the other half of me.”

“I can’t stay forever, Rey, much as I desperately wish to. It’s not… it’s not done. The laws of the univer—“

“Fuck the laws of the universe, the galaxy, the Force, and all it contains!” she spat, eyes flinty even in the early predawn darkness of their home—their _home_. 

“Rey. Rey, love. It’s not healthy for _you_ . At some point you… you have to move on from me. To heal. To _live_ in a way I can only ever hold you back from. To have a true family. Children to coddle rather than desperately train. Friends who you avoid so you can spend time with me.”

“How can I live and move on without the other half of _me_?” she whispered, ignoring the words that hit too close to home.

“You’re stronger than you know, even now. Even after everything you’ve accomplished. You don’t need me.”

Rey glanced up at him with a look that could kill him if he weren’t already dead. He shut his mouth and let an uncomfortable silence fall between them. It was a familiar argument, but something about this time felt different…

“Six successful cycles of government and peaceful transfer, one hundred joined Allied planets, or fifty fully trained Force Users. Whichever comes first,” she finally said, shoulders drawn tightly back, as if preparing for a long, drawn-out fight—or bargaining process. 

“What?” Ben asked, honestly having zero clue as to what she was getting at. 

“You can’t stay forever, you say—and even I know that, as much as I wish I could fight it to my last breath—but you can stay to make sure the world will be safe without you. That you… well, you were mind controlled so it’s not like making up for—“

“That’s exactly what it is.” He took both her hands in his, cradling them between his large palms and pressing kisses to her fingertips. The ghostly sizzle would never grow old, she thought absently, even as she tried to focus on his stupid, _stupid_ words. “Balancing some of the evil I did. Leaving the world at least somewhat better than when I died.”

Rey winced but didn’t turn away from him. “If you say you need to leave, that the universe, the Force, demands it of you, let it be on terms that matter. It’s been allowed before, from what I’ve read and heard.” She was thinking of Uncle Ben’s aiding Luke to destroy the Death Star, of Luke fighting Kylo Ren in a delaying tactic on Crait, of many others who were mere anecdotes in the annals of Jedi and Galactic history. 

“The Force honors promises,” she continued, finally looking him full in the eye, blinking tears from her eyes. “Let yours matter. If I’m to lose you, let it be after we’ve had time for me to remember you by, for the galaxy to remember you and come to terms with you, for us to build something as a society and…. and as something together. You and I.”

His gaze softened for a moment before he cocked his head to the side, as if listening to some... _thing_ that was not in this room. Something not wholly there, but also everywhere. The Force.

“I promise,” he finally said, turning back to her and sealing his words with a kiss.

* * *

**YAVIN IV (4.5 to 5.5 years ABE)**

They settled into an odd sort of routine after that; Rey didn’t know how, but sometimes it felt like time was speeding up just for her while the rest of the world carried on at its own slow pace. Finn and Poe were busy dealing with the new Alliance of Worlds and with the absolute _handful_ that Noah had become in his terrible twos… and threes, while Rey was just as busy avoiding said Alliance, even as she still travelled occasionally as a diplomat for potential new world who might wish to join—and neutralizing the threat the Dark still posed. 

Her days on Yavin IV, at the school, were filled with a multitude of important things—things she’d never even considered of consequence as a child. Luckily she was not alone in the teaching of her students—some of whom were older than _her_ , Force—but she was still in charge of organizing the school and the direction of their education. She had been _entrusted_ with that. With keeping the balance. Yet, finding teachers for arithmetic and language and letters and history and xenoanthropology and so much more than just teaching them how to use the fucking _Force_ … yeah, not so much her forte. But she had good allies, and there was even a rumor that the Mandalorian would be returning with his son—and to assist at least part of the year—and that he would be bringing a mysterious former Jedi Master with him. Someone who had escaped the purge, and, he reassured her over correspondence, who had no desire to push ‘failed Jedi teachings down the throats of those who cannot know the importance of control, not repression’, as he said _she_ had put it. 

Rey’s days, as afraid of them as she once had been, had become fulfilling, and far from the loneliness and uncertainty she’d thought once waited for her the rest of her life.

But her nights. Oh, her nights were filled with him. With learning him, him learning her, them learning each other. Lips to lips, body to body, lips to body, mind to mind… everything and more that they had been robbed of having a chance at.

They didn’t have a conventional relationship, not in the slightest. Rey wasn’t even sure that their relationship would’ve been any different had he still been alive. Ben grew frustrated at the seemingly arbitrary rules placed on his body—there was only so much he could touch her, could please her, and no way to please _him_ fully—but the fact that Rey was content with what they had allowed him to be content as well. Her happiness mattered that much to him, she could tell, and she felt just the same.

Sex—or the lack of it—was not something she could bring herself to miss, especially as she’d never had it, when she had him at her fingertips, in her life, in her heart and soul and mind. It was a deeper connection than she could ever imagine a simple joining of bodies to be. But the occasional… _pleasure_ didn’t hurt.

At times he was like a slave at her feet—well, that was a terrible analogy, she thought, wrinkling her nose at the idea of slavery… which was thankfully being eradicated in all Allied worlds, slowly but surely. A servant, then. At times he was like a faithful servant, one dedicated to all that she was, and she often revelled in that—but turnabout was fair play too, and finding ways to make a Force Ghost shake apart had become one of her new favorite mysteries of the universe to unlock. 

But mostly they just… loved one another. 

* * *

He wasn’t always with her. Not all nights, not all days, but she never worried that he wouldn’t come back.

He always found his way back to her.

Just as she always welcomed him back with open arms.

But she lived in fear of the day the galaxy would know the truth about him—not for her sake, and her association with him, but for the mere fact it would be yet another injustice piled upon him after a lifetime of being buried under a sand dune of them.

Yet one day it happened.

* * *

**YAVIN IV (8 years ABE)**

“Rose,” Rey greeted her friend amiably over the holovid, brushing her long hair in the comforting presence of her friend.

Or what _should_ have been comforting.

Rose, ignoring all of her usual pleasantries and smiles and questions as to how she was doing—even how _Ben_ was doing; that had never ceased to amaze her that Rose actually cared—cut into the call and response of their usual greeting and, with a serious expression, told Rey to check out the latest news feeds and warning her not to accept any connection requests from people she did not know, before abruptly cutting off the connection.

Rey blinked, slowly laying down her brush, a little shocked at the… rudeness of her friend, but surely there was a good reason?

She logged into the holonet and was immediately bombarded with headlines she had both dreaded and dreamed of for years.

> _“Grooming and Predation in the Fall of the Republic: The Case of Ben Solo”_
> 
> _“We Must No Longer Ignore the Force—Or Face Another Kylo Ren”_
> 
> _“A Failure of Family or an Unavoidable Tragedy?”_
> 
> _“Our Heroes Are Not So Heroic… And Our Villains More Heroic Than We Knew”_
> 
> _“What Truly Happened on Exegol? The Chandrilan Minister Breaks Her Silence”_
> 
> _“Generals of the Resistance Speak Out In Support of Ben Solo… a.k.a. Kylo Ren”_
> 
> _“The Rise and Fall of the Skywalkers—and the Stranger Who Saved the Last of Them”_
> 
> _“Who Really is the War Hero Called Rey, and What Is This Mysterious Dyad She Once Spoke Of?”_
> 
> _“The Fall of Ben Solo, the Rise of Kylo Ren, and How Exactly_ **_We_ ** _Allowed This to Occur”_
> 
> _“Kylo Ren? The Hero We Needed?”_
> 
> _“Force Ghosts: Jedi Legend, or Reality?”_

And on and on it went.

The higher ups had always known, but had chosen to keep Kylo Ren separate from the galactic hero named Ben Solo.

Clearly someone had finally disagreed, and felt that all knowledge should be at the fingertips of the citizenship.

Rey slammed the holonet down, collapsing it back down into the bracelet Ben had _somehow_ found for her and had Savat gift her on his behalf—those two seemed to get along like a house on fire most days, she swore, thick as thieves at times—before opening the screen back up and jotting out hasty written notes to Rose, Finn, and Poe, explaining she needed time to herself (Ben’s name was unspoken but a given, especially considering the circumstances) and that she would try to keep in contact with them. But she needed to leave Yavin IV, needed to leave before the reporters and journalists and historians got their hooks into her. Into Ben. Before they realized he really _was_ still around.

Before they took her up on her offer to try _her_ for Kylo Ren’s crimes, because he _was her_.

She paused and then went off to find Savat, letting her know personally that she’d be in charge again—not that she hadn’t _really_ been in charge the last few years anyway—and that it would probably be a _really_ good idea to take the thirty-odd students and teachers on an extended excursion into the field. Perhaps even a visit to Ilum or one of the other planets which housed caves of kyber crystals for the students who had finally reached that point in their training.

The woman looked at her for a long moment, and then her gaze slid past her to land on who could only be Ben. “Take care of her or I’ll make sure you die twice,” she threatened—rather sweetly.

As much as the thought of losing Ben a second time scared her, Rey couldn’t help but laugh at the shocked and somewhat impressed look that graced Ben’s features. It was too priceless.

“Has she always been that irreverent of you?” she finally asked as her laughter died down minutes later as she packed her bags. 

“Usually it’s a lot worse” Ben replied honestly, then shrugged, as if he was perfectly content with the new place he had in the universe.

* * *

As they settled into the larger ship she’d purchased earlier that year—though still flyable by one experienced pilot—she asked Ben without looking at him directly, as if scared of what she would see, “Do you want to talk about… about everyone knowing?”

“They can’t hurt me anymore,” he said simply, nigh immediately, and she could sense his shrug. But then his eyes zeroed in on her. “It’s you I worry about though, Rey. They could hurt you.”

“I can take care of myself,” she retorted.

“It’s not the physical wounds I worry about,” he replied softly, brushing her loose hair off of her forehead.

Rey chose to ignore the implications of that, instead focusing on getting the hell out of known Allied space.

At least till the furor—the idiocy, she thought caustically—died down.

* * *

**THE GREATER GALAXY (8 to 10 years ABE)**

As they set out into the wider galaxy, flitting from planet to planet and aiding where and when she could— _they_ could—with the limited resources they had, Rey kept a pulse on the goings on of the Alliance of Worlds. She knew her friends were fighting fiercely on behalf of her reputation—and that of the man who mattered the most to her, no matter how much or little they understood her connection to the once-scourge of the New Republic. New and old allies alike spoke for them, for _Ben_ , (and out of fear, of course, that the citizens would be mad the governments had kept _this_ knowledge from them) for the man who had been abandoned and conditioned to become Kylo Ren, and the galaxy was finally starting to _see_.

It didn’t mean he was… accepted. No. The Alliance of Worlds still listed him as a historical enemy. But they had done something special, something no one knew who exactly had put forward to be voted upon, despite meticulous records being kept:

Ben Solo, son of Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan and her consort-husband Han Solo, had been listed— _separately_ —as a war hero, just like the rest of his family.

“Not sure how I feel being lumped in with those three,” Ben grumbled as Rey curled up in his lap at the good news.

But she could feel the pleasant hum of contentment from his mind to hers, and she knew that he would be okay. That he was starting to heal, just like her.

“But I like that they listed you and I as husband and wife,” he whispered huskily into her ear before taking her apart as best their circumstances allowed.

* * *

**THE GREATER GALAXY AND YAVIN IV (10 to 11.5 years ABE)**

They felt more in tune with every passing day, week, year. 

It was comforting, it was filled with love and acceptance and devotion, and Rey never felt the loss of the physical relationship they might have had if he had not been dead. But she reveled in what they _did_ have, what the Force had granted them when it could just as easily have taken it all away or never given it to them in the first place. Each kiss, each caress, was like the very first one, and they never grew tired of each other.

They continued to keep their eye on the Alliance, continued to serve where they could, though they moved constantly from place to place to avoid the—admittedly thinning—reporters and chroniclers of history wishing to get their hooks in them.

Rey especially was an expert at finding her way back to Yavin IV for visits to the school that was flourishing without her—though she was pleased to see that the Charter of values and educational guidelines she’d spent long weeks on composing were still being taught and passed on.

But mostly she wanted to see her not-so-little-anymore godson Noah and—she joked—to also begrudgingly visit with her oldest friends.

And with each visit, each short and beautiful and therapeutic moment in their presence, school and found family alike, she healed that little bit more. And so did Ben. The acceptance he was finding was a boon to his poor, beaten-down soul, but his mood was steadily increasing with each kind word from someone who was not Rey. 

* * *

But eventually the galaxy called upon them—upon _her_ —once again, and it was time to face the Alliance of Worlds.

Which now numbered nearly eighty planets strong.

Two successive and successful and peaceful governments, and the beginning of a third.

Thirty-seven Force Users at her training grounds. Even the return of the fabled Ahsoka Tano, whom Rey was almost afraid/too in awe to meet.

Ben’s promise weighed heavily on her—and they were running out of time.

And yet, the progress was… beautiful. As painful as it was to her personally for her future self, seeing the galaxy begin to heal, eradicating evil such as she had experienced as a child, such as had led to Ben’s fall, such as had led the First Order to rise… it was all coming together.

Yet the closer they, the galaxy, got to achieving those goals (“It’s all you, Rey; you’re helping heal the Force and the Force is fulfilling its purpose of protecting all Life once again,” Ben whispered to her as he held her close.) the sadder she became. The more she interacted with others, _helped_ others, the more she selfishly wanted to avoid everyone else forever and ever, and never let Ben’s promise to the Force and to her be fulfilled.

But she was not selfish, she was _not_ , and the nearly twelve years since the war had brought a level of maturity to her that she wasn’t sure she could entirely lay credit to. She was into her mid-thirties and yet still felt like she wasn’t ready to grow up. She wanted to soak in as much time as she could with Ben, to the expense of all others, and damn the galaxy, but she… she had friends. She had students, of a sort. She had those who looked up to her and relied on her. And still, occasionally, she retreated, as much as she knew it hurt Ben to see her like that. She _knew_ it hurt him, but she just… she’d had so little in her life and couldn’t help holding on in the only way she knew how—with all her being.

But she couldn’t hide forever.

At least the citizens of the galaxy had finally seemed to settle down on the topic of Ben Solo, Kylo Ren, and if Rey could be trusted based on her association with either.

* * *

**YAVIN IV (11.5 years ABE)**

It was Yavin IV’s turn to host the third duly-appointed group of government officials that formed the Alliance of Worlds—it would do so again, soon, but more worlds were building appropriate lodgings and chambers and cultivating their security forces and planetary defenses so that one day, perhaps soon, they also could host the centralizing government that was bringing order and _some_ form of peace and, maybe, justice, back to the galaxy. At least in some parts of it. 

She’d done a large amount of _good_ in the systems just outside of the Alliance’s reach, but that was not why the Alliance of Worlds had called her to them personally, to the not-quite-full medium-sized auditorium that was their Chambers on Yavin IV, whose turn it was now to host the government, having waited until after Chandrila and Lonera had taken their turns. Much to Poe and Finn’s everlasting delight, she was sure. She suppressed an eye roll. She wasn’t exactly thrilled at the government’s proximity to her school, either, but there was very little they could do about it—government nor school. Their Treaty, written with the help of one of the older students who had once been in Law, allowed them a state of being both a part of the Alliance and outside of it, and that would do for now. But she knew they were watched; they all did.

Rey couldn’t help the small smile as she noticed Ben walking behind each Senator in the Chambers, leaving shivering humans and other sentients in his wake.

 _Subtle,_ she thought at him, only barely suppressing her amusement from showing on her lips. This time she didn’t hold back the eye roll, however. He sent back a feeling of playfulness and extreme satisfaction, especially as he passed by a Senator from a world who still held some… _unfortunate_ ties to the old First Order and Empire… and practically made the man jump clear of his seat.

“I take it your partner is here with us,” the somewhat young Loneran Prime Minister who hailed from one of Lonera’s older colonies broke into the tense silence with a dry tone.

 _I like him_ , Ben commented as he materialized at her side once again. The lack of reaction from anyone except the Prime Minister’s widening golden eyes and slight bristling of the mane around his head meant that no one else could see him. Ben held up a finger to his lips and the young male quickly composed himself with a tiny nod of his head, fur settling back down quickly for one as young as he.

No wonder he had become Prime Minister at his age—and the first non-human Prime Minister, at that, was especially good for the health of the Alliance. 

“He is,” Rey finally said, loud enough that the rest of the Chamber could hear her. “You requested the both of us, though it’s my understanding this is the first confirmation any of you have had that he is indeed… still with me. Literally. A part of me, and yet separate. You knew what we were to each other— _are_ —but there was no reason for you to know he lingered.”

She narrowed her eyes accusingly at nearly every one of the eighty-member Assembly.

The hushed silence spoke volumes.

“As I’m not being led away in chains that could not hold me, let alone him, what is it that I have been called here for?” Rey asked as she slowly turned in place in the center of all those _eyes_ , staring down at her with some of the most impassive faces she’d ever seen.

Her attention was caught by Ben suddenly zipping forward and kneeling in front of a girl who had just been led into the Chambers from a door she’d had her back to. Rey twirled around, sensing her love’s movements and _emotions_ , hands resting easily on both of her sabers, expecting a very _unwelcome_ surprise or trap, but instead was faced with…

With Ben kneeling in front of a girl who could obviously see him, the Force ebbing and flowing from her in waves stronger than she’d sensed in years, stronger than any of her students, and… dark. So Dark, but with a core of Light within her that was trying to shine through. It was as if the entire universe had opened up in front of her, watching the little girl lift her— _fuck the Alliance_ —shackled hands so that she could press her palms to either side of Ben’s now clearly visible face, along with the rest of his body.

She could hear gasps, some sobs, cries of both horror and great joy, and so much else that she chose to just shut it all out as _useless_ —to shut everything else out except for her Ben, the girl of no more than five with tight, frizzy curls that reminded her so much of Finn’s trooper friend Jannah, and the Prime Minister who had chosen to kneel beside the girl and gently remove the shackles from her wrists himself. 

“She needs someone who understands her,” the Loneran male was telling Ben, the girl, and even Rey—though she felt as if her ears were filled with the sound of static. She stepped closer, focusing hard to hear what was being said, and kneeling down as gently as she could in front of the girl. No sudden movements. 

A lesson her school had quickly learned.

“She was found on one of the former First Order worlds in the Outer Rim. They were…” the young male cut himself off, and the honest emotion and anger and compassion he exhibited made Rey wish she’d cared enough to learn his name—or vote for him.

“They were going to make you like me, were’t they?” Ben asked the child—though his words and tone treated her as an equal; someone who had seen far too much and matured far beyond her years against her will.

The girl nodded and let one hand fall down to catch Ben’s mostly substantial hand in her own. “Kylo Ren,” she whispered, eyes wide. Then they softened. “But I wanted to be Ben Solo. No matter how little they told me…” She paused, eyes darting from side to side before stepping closer to Ben and even nearer to Rey, away from the Prime Minister who had stood and stepped back a respectful distance. “… no matter what they kept from me, your mama told me everything I needed to know to be as strong as you.” She glanced at Rey, who had started to silently weep at the implication. “As strong as both of you. As her. As your family. That if you could survive, both of you, that _I_ could.”

Rey couldn’t hold in her breath anymore, and she gathered both Ben and—after checking that it was okay—the really-not-so-little girl into her arms, breaths gasping in and out at everything pouring into her through Ben’s and her bond, and the nascent one that she could feel with the child that bore all the telltale marks of the fledgling bond she had started to form with Leia before Rey had died and the woman had sacrificed herself for her only child.

Of _course_ Leia would find another child like her Ben, the one she had failed until it was too late, until the very end when she had given up everything for him. Of course Leia would try to right a wrong that she saw still existing in the universe. Not just to ease her guilt—but to do _right_ in the world. 

The little girl whispered against both their ears, “She told me to tell you she loves you with all her heart, all the way until the very end. That was just before I was rescued. She said she watched over you but never approached, knowing that only Lady Rey could help you heal, and you her. That she would only bring pain. But still, she worked to bring us together, and I am so grateful to Miss Leia being the light in the darkness of my life.” Her words were beyond her age, and yet they perfectly suited the solemn, dark girl before them. She cupped one hand over her heart, where in the Force she shone brightly in the midst of the shadow of Darkness. “She knew you could help me, Mister Ben. She knew you would understand. She passed on, knowing that you would be there for me now.” She fell quiet and swayed on her feet, as if the words—so many, and so wise beyond her years—had tired her out, and Rey bent to pick her up, pressing the girl’s face into her neck and letting her nose bury itself into the girl’s puff of curls, breathing in her scent.

Ben looked alternately stricken at the news of his mother’s life after death, horrified at what had occurred to this little girl in the memory and name of who he’d once been, and as if his heart was melting simply at the sight of the woman he loved most holding onto a child as if said girl was the most precious thing in the world, meant to be taught and protected and raised to her greatest and _best_ potential.

All that and more in his eyes and he slowly faded from the other’s sight, even hers, though she knew he was there from the way he breathed deeply against the back of her head. If anyone noticed the long strands fluttering in a non-existent breeze, no one mentioned it. No one wanted to.

Part of the galaxy may have come to accept what had happened to Ben Solo, how Kylo Ren had come to be, and how Ben and Rey, two parts of a mystical dyad, had defeated an enemy who’d plagued the galaxy for decades… but it did not mean they would ever be fully comfortable with him, or even with discussing him.

The Forgotten Hero.

The Discarded Savior.

The Nameless Hope.

She refused to let that happen to this child. 

“What is your name, darling?” Rey asked her quietly on the way out the door, after the Prime Minister had imparted to her—thankfully in few words—his hope for the girl’s rehabilitation with Rey… and Ben. There had been some mention of Leia coming to him in a dream, in memory of his own mother, Varish Vicly, which Rey filed away in her mind for later, telling the Loneran how saving even one child such as this girl was worth the entire Alliance of Worlds.

He had made it his mission, and for that she was grateful. But for now, she had another focus in her life.

Once they were outside the Chambers themselves, the child seemed to come alive. “Myra,” the girl finally answered Rey’s earlier question. “I don’t remember more than my life there, even though they called me… something else… but Miss Leia told me to never forget my name. And I didn’t.”

“You did just perfect,” Rey said confidently, hugging her tighter to her frame as they walked through the halls of the Senate building and into the sunshine of Yavin IV. “Now, there are some wonderful people I would love you to meet. Don’t worry, Mister Ben will still be here, the others are special like us and can see him whenever they want—” Rey grinned toothily at Ben’s grumpy face, but she felt lighter than she had in _years_ , “—and they will absolutely love to meet you. But only as long as you wish, and then we can go home, okay?”

The girl lifted her head from Rey’s shoulder and stared at her with wide eyes. “I’ve never had a home.”

Rey’s heart absolutely _broke_ for this broken—but not _defeated_ —girl in her arms, but she resolved then and there to do whatever it took to bring light, laughter, hope, and _home_ to Myra.

“Myra Organa,” Ben said suddenly, speaking up as they neared the road that would lead them towards Finn and Poe’s home. Where Noah would be waitin for his godmother and the ghostly man he _insisted_ on calling Uncle Ben—much to the laughter of one father and the annoyance of the other. 

Rey stopped and looked at him, just _looked_ , and then she understood. She smiled. They had wanted to let the names die along with them, but this… “It’s perfect. Myra Organa. Is that okay with you, Myra?”

The girl squirmed to be let down and once down she made a curtsey with her wide, long skirts that had _all_ the hallmarks of one taught by the stately Leia Organa. She giggled as she pulled up and said, “That’s what Miss Leia called me!”

Rey brought a hand to her lips, holding back the bittersweet tears that wanted to fall. Ben gathered her into his now-visible arms and pressed her back against his chest, holding her tight with all the love he could bring to bear for her, burning brightly for her through their connection.

It was beautiful.

Life was beautiful.

It had a way of coming together in ways that no one expected, not even Force users, not even those gifted with the curse of foretelling. Life had a way of coming full circle.

They had been too late to fully save the child who was Ben Solo, but his mother had brought them the chance at saving another.

Myra was still being consumed by the Darkness inside her, but the core of Light within her was Leia’s gift to her and Ben before parting this world.

Rey had a new purpose in life. One that mattered more to her than anyone but Ben.

But she also knew that this new purpose… it meant her time with Ben was coming to an end.

She had found something else to keep her going—something she had fought against for decades, refusing to commit fully to any one purpose out of fear that Ben would tell her she no longer needed him. 

He squeezed her just a little tighter, sensing her thoughts, but said nothing, letting simple contentment take center stage in this moment. He felt more at peace to her than he ever had before.

* * *

**EXEGOL SYSTEM (21 ABE)**

He was gone. 

Fully, completely gone, with not even a trace of their bond remaining in more than memory.

It had been twenty years to the day since she’d first felt his presence. Twenty one years since his death. And here she stood in that same place, a bare few weeks later, on that same bluff overlooking the memorial. But this time she was not alone. Myra, of course, was at her side, holding her hand despite the fact that she was now fifteen years old, though of course her hand was curled around the grip of her own lightsaber just as tightly as she held onto Rey’s hand.

Rey hadn’t asked anyone to come with her, intending to slip out in the night with only Myra, but when she’d arrived at the Exegol War Memorial, an entire fleet of ships from across the galaxy, member planets and future members aike, awaited her. Her entire school of just over eighty students—some now teachers and Elders in their own right, and even the _children_ —were at the foot of the memorial, laying their hands on the names of those lost, and preserving them in their memory.

Even Company 77, the Stormtrooper defectors from the Death Star world where Ben had been _healed_ , were there, and her tears had overflowed when they’d—hesitantly, as if she’d break, or rage, or… or _something_ —shown her the pieces of Kylo Ren’s broken lightsaber. The one he’d told her he’d tossed off the Death Star in a fit of rage after their duel, after his _father_ of all people had appeared to him, when he had felt like he didn’t even know who he was anymore; just a lost little boy with no one left who loved him. The one that Company 77 had spent years looking for in the treacherous waters, when Finn had passed along the idea to Jannah, swearing her to secrecy what all those close to Ben knew was coming—his end. His return to the Force.

They had wished to return a part of him, broken and blighted as it might be, but a symbol of his resurrection all the same, to the place closest to his true death. To the place where the names of all heroes resided. To be buried among the many other trinkets families had left over the years for those lost.

The current Alliance of Worlds had even surprised her with an emergency vote last week to include Ben Solo’s name on the list of heroes. It was there, freshly inscribed, raw, and new, and the feel of his name beneath her fingers would be burned into her memory forever.

It was… it was all so much. She had expected to be alone, had expected only Myra and _maybe_ Poe and Finn, because apparently her sneaking skills were terrible, _still_ , they said, even after all these years.

Rey—who was still a _nobody_ —had not expected _this_ . Them. _Everyone_. 

But there they’d been. Finn and Poe. Not-so-little-anymore Noah, now a young man, grown. Rose. Even Jannah and C-3PO and R2 and BB-8 and practically the entirety of the living remainder of the Resistance had found their way here to say goodbye to someone who meant varying things to all of them.

He meant so many things to so many people that it would be impossible to qualify them all, Rey thought, and some of them were not so nice things, either.

But she had come to accept that over the years. Come to accept that the man who was her husband in all but name had—despite the circumstances—done some horrifying things, torn down beautiful life across the galaxy, and snuffed out the ability for it to grow anew.

Still, he was so much more than that. Not many would’ve had the courage to accept him back into their lives—despite knowing his actions had come from a broken, groomed, brainwashed young man—and some had even detested those who chose to accept him as a hero… eventually… in the wake of the war. Even more so those who _literally_ accepted his ghostly presence into their lives.

But these people… the people who had somehow known when he’d passed, whose lives he’d touched in one positive way or another in his life after death, who had meant something to _him_ … they were here. For him.

For her.

For them. 

Rey pressed her free hand tightly to the small swell of her abdomen, not even bothering to hide the emotion that was coursing through her. The few who stood with her—Myra, Finn, Poe, Noah—all knew of her condition, even if they only half understood how she _felt_ about it.

She had given up on the hope of ever having a child of her own when Ben’s ghostly presence had come back into her life. She had contented herself with the many half-pints— _hellions_ , Ben had called them fondly; _little rancors_ , Finn had swore more than once; Poe just called them all _darlings_ … and Savat just grumble-smiled her way through the lot of them—who’d made their way through the halls of her school, leaving footprints on her heart, each and every one of them. With Ben and her at the head, the community had seemed like one, large, joyous family, even if that wasn’t always the truth of the matter. But it had made her content, made her smile, and Rey knew that he had been happy with their found family as well.

And then Myra had arrived in their lives and upended all of Rey’s careful control. She’d been careful with little Noah as he’d grown, though she knew her friends—and Ben—had seen and heard how plainly her heart called out for a child of her own. Noah had been good for her soul, but was a bittersweet reminder of what she could not allow herself to have.

But then, yes, Myra had barged right through both her and Ben’s defenses and been the light in their lives from that moment on. She’d been a lot of work, a true handful, but they had not even once expressed bitterness over the girl who their world revolved around—and not just because she was a link to Leia. Because she was Myra. Their girl. Their adopted daughter (and hadn’t that been a laugh and a half for the Yavin government to acknowledge).

Yet still her heart had yearned.

She thought the dream would be dead and buried as soon as Ben had said his final goodbyes—to as many as he could, like the courteous man he’d become… had always had the capacity to _be_ . She’d thought over the years, ever since Poe had put that stupid thought about Anakin into her and Ben’s mind, that maybe, just _maybe_ — 

But no. It had not been meant to be. Plus, she was getting older now. She never _felt_ it, but she was into her forties now, and knew her time was likely past.

She’d known his leavetaking was approaching for weeks, if not months, as had Myra, strong in the Force as she had become and as attuned to her adoptive father as her mother was. He had even stayed longer than she’d expected of him, lingering long past any Force Ghost had ever been known to linger, his strength fading just a little bit more with each day. Yet still he’d clung.

He’d not only lived to keep one of the required promises out of three—he’d kept _all three_ . The Alliance of Worlds was more than 150 strong, now. Her students numbered above and beyond eighty, and growing each month as more and more young ones were found born with the Force—each family had the choice of moving _together_ to the school, accepting a teacher into their homes, or being left alone until the child could make the decision for themselves. And there had been six, now _seven_ successive and successful and peaceful governments.

He had kept his promises. All of them.

He had promised to love her with all his heart and soul and body and mind, and he had done so with each and every one of them at different points in their journey; the body being the first… and the first to go. But she’d still had the _essence_ of him.

He had promised to stay by her side, to help, to aid, to protect, to respect her and her choices.

All that and more had been done.

He had promised to love the child of their heart as if she had been his very own.

He had, and even made the argument that the Force within them bound them stronger than blood.

Myra’s hands found hers where it was pressing against her womb, pulling Rey out of the long, twisting hallways of her mind and back into the present. She smiled down at the daughter of her heart, her daughter in the Force. “I’m sorry, love, my mind was wandering. What is it?”

Myra had a very serious look on her face, though it seemed she’d stopped crying, at least, her eyes simply red and puffy now. “Is…” She frowned in concentration, then asked hesitantly, as if she thought it were a silly, childish question, “Is it papa’s? Or, or… I know some people believe in reincarnation, and…” She trailed off, growling a little bit in that way she had _obviously_ learned from Rey, much to her chagrin.

Rey froze for a moment, glancing at her two best friends and their grown son standing to her right, who were watching her with careful eyes, as if interested in the response themselves and waiting to hear what she had to say.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t asked the question to herself more than once. She’d even gone to the medical droid and vowed it to silence and had tests performed, even through her recent grief at losing Ben.

Inconclusive. Again and again, tests were run. Inconclusive.

She’d tried asking the Force, and heard nothing; received no answers.

The Force, as usual when one wanted a straightforward answer, was nothing if not completely vexing.

Heaving a great sigh and then lifting her still-growing teen onto one hip with the slight aid of the Force, she answered her girl with the only honest answer she could: “I don’t know sweetheart. I know you’re old enough to know these things now, and what it means when I say that I’ve never lain _like that_ with any man, not even your father. We simply could not.” She ignored Poe elbowing his husband in the ribs and telling him to shut it. “It is not… common for something like this to occur, but of course your father is not a common man.”

“You are far from common yourself, maman,” Myra pronounced proudly. Then she leaned in and whispered into Rey’s ear alone. “Perhaps you’re another Shmi Skywalker, like Uncle Poe says. I think he’s right.”

Rey rolled her eyes, resisting looking over at her foolish friends—who, unfortunately… or _fortunately_ , perhaps, might be right.

“Maybe,” she hedged. “The Force is telling me nothing, and that in and of itself tells me something, Because of course the Force is not done messing with the remaining half of its apparent ‘Chosen One’.” The last was said sarcastically, but she’d come to begrudgingly accept people calling her and Ben that in their later years. It was far better than “The Traitor and the Scavenger,” as a popular holodrama had spread _everywhere_ in the early days.

Poe and Finn stepped in close, finally, and embraced her and Myra from either side, Noah glomming onto Finn’s right side in the way he’d done since he’d been a small child—despite being as tall as his father now, and old enough to know better.

But, hell, she was holding her fifteen year old daughter in her arms while she was carrying what seemed to be a child born of the kriffin’ _Force_.

They could be strange if they wanted to.

Strange was better than sad, and she’d had enough sadness in the last weeks since Ben had returned to the Force to last her three lifetimes. Losing him the first time hadn’t even seemed to be this hard.

But this time she had friends. Family. Friends who were family. An entire galactic government who respected and loved her to varying degrees.

Despite losing so much in the form of one person, she had _so much still left_ in her life. They would never fill the void, but the void wasn’t meant to be filled.

When one loved this deep, the void was a monument of its own. A monument to the departed. A monument to a love so deep it defied all known laws of the universe. A monument to a man, and a woman, and the life they had built together.

Rey closed her eyes and leaned into the support of her family, both physical and emotional, and let the wind whip away her tears. Let them fall here on the still-unnamed planet, the monument to the fallen in the Battle of Exegol; let them fall and mingle with what was left of her first and strongest love. For the ashes of those who’d died on Exegol and in the surrounding system, had made its way here, falling into the atmosphere and burning into its component atoms to become one again with life. With the Force.

Here, they could still be one.

She rested her hand on her belly again, this time with a smile. _And perhaps, in eight months, I will have another piece of Ben to love. Whether his or the Force…_

It didn’t matter.

In the end, all were one with the Force.

And one day she would become one with it again.

Just… not yet.

Ben, selfless man that he’d proven to be, had taught her there was more to life and the galaxy than him; that there was more to live for; that more than _them_ mattered.

And damn him, but he was right.

She would not go _seeking_ death, no. But nor would she shy away from it when it came to her with open arms, to sweep her into the arms of her love once more.

Until then, though…

She had a life to live. A life to live for him.

Her family hugged her tighter, as if sensing her need in that moment.

She had a life to live for _them_.

And maybe, perhaps, she deserved to live for _herself._

She would honor him, remember him... and live.

* * *

* * *

_You once told me_

_You wanted to find_

_Yourself in the world -_

_And I told you to_

_First apply within,_

_To discover the world_

_within you._

_You once told me_

_You wanted to save_

_The world from all its wars -_

_And I told you to_

_First save yourself_

_From the world,_

_And all the wars_

_You put yourself_

_Through._

_\- APPLY WITHIN by Suzy Kassem_

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are the lifeblood of any author! We encourage you to check out the entire collection and leave all these wonderful authors some love in this still-sorta-crazy time we're all living in. 
> 
> May the Force be with you, fellow Reylos. Take care of yourselves and each other. <3
> 
> Love,  
> Juulna and Annaelle  
> ([@juuls](https://juuls.tumblr.com) and [@cuthian](https://cuthian.tumblr.com) over on Tumblr. Come say hi! Juulna also runs the [2021 Fanfiction Reading Challenge](https://fanfic-reading-challenge.tumblr.com) \- no signup required!)
> 
> P.S..... is anyone at all interested if I pick Codega up again? If they remember what that is? xD It's halfway done, reposted on my (Juulna's) AO3... just trying to get a feel if it's worth the pain of reopening old wounds and finishing what was my original baby. Annaelle's too. But if there's no interest... y'know? Been thinking about it a lot though, and Lady_of_Haven (part of this RFFA collection!) got me thinking about it even more.... I'm so tempted that it actually hurts. Anyway, come yell at me about that on Tumblr rather than here.
> 
> This 'test' foot back into Reylo waters went swimmingly well though, I think, as far as writing it goes! We'll see if the response tests well, too! ^_^
> 
> Thank you for reading!! We appreciate every one of you! Especially those of you who aren't use to how much Juulna natters on in her notes. ;) Let's just say I don't socialize a whole lot. xD
> 
> Be safe, and all the best to you and yours! xoxo


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